Take These Broken Wings
by uptown line
Summary: "Everyone in this room is a disaster. And we'll try to fix each other." Dark!AU verse. How the Dalton Academy Warblers were created and how they got to where they are today.
1. Chapter 1 : For The First Time

**A/N: Hi, I'm Becca L., one half of the duo that runs this account. This is my first Glee fanfiction (eep.) There will be triggers (ie; cutting, abuse), so proceed with caution or stop and go back if you feel uncomfortable.**

**Oh, the story might be a wee bit hard to understand, so at the end I've attached a mini summary in case you didn't understand what was going on.**

**The story is set pre-everything. This is the dark!au version of how the warblers were brought together and formed.**

**I don't own anything except my OCs.**

**Enjoy.**

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><p>Nick Duval stared blankly at his reflection in the mirror. He guessed he liked the uniform. The blazer was quite fitting, the tie was spunky and well tied by him, and it was spotless, after being carefully taken care of by his mother. Most importantly, the sleeves of the blazer were long. Just long enough.<p>

He took one last final look at his now nearly emty room, ran his fingers through his neatly styled hair, and quietly carried his luggage out of the room. His mother was standing at the foot of the stairs and saw him immediately, motioning with a trembling finger for him to keep quiet. He frowned, then realized what was going on. His jaw set, he walked quietly down the stairs, carefully carrying his luggage and barely made it down the stairs without making a sound, before he heard a chirpy voice from the kitchen.

"Where are you going Nicky?" the bright eyed little girl of seven asked, running over to him and hugging his legs. He leaned down and twirled her pigtails.

"We've talked about this, Dana, I'm going to school," he said, still trying to keep his voice down, eyes darting to the study room door.

"Does that mean you will be home for dinner? Could you play tea party with me? Please?"

Nick chuckled, shaking his head. "I'm going to stay there for a while. I promise I'll be home on weekends. And then we'll play tea party okay?"

He gave her a quick hug despite her silent protest and carried his luggage towards the door where his mother was already waiting for him. She was to drive him to Dalton Academy, some posh private school she had suggested for him to go to after all his... complications. He had barely made it a foot out the door when he heard a voice behind him. The voice coming from the person who hated him the most.

"Bye bye faggy pants. That's right, run off to your little gay school and go lead some bullshit life full of rainbows and butterflies," Mr Duval slurred, bottle in hand, as he stood leaning against the doorway of the study. Nick winced, choosing to ignore him. This nightmare was going to end soon.

"Go get another queer to kiss and love yeah? Love, haha," Mr Duval continued, laughing to himself as he shot glares at his son, who stood rooted to the spot, but made no retort what so ever. Somehow his son's indifference made him even angrier. "Know what, don't even think about coming home. Don't sprinkle your magic fairy dust all over my house. We don't want it," he said with a sneer, making his way clumsily back to the study again.

Nick felt those familiar tears again, welling in his throat. He swallowed the lump in his throat, straightened his blazer let out a sigh, and dragged his feet to the family car, eyes downcast., getting into the passenger seat. As the car drove out of the driveway, he looked back at the house quickly, the one with nightmares, screaming and forgotten tears, and turned his head back to stare into his lap.

"Yeah, I love you too, Dad."

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><p>Connor Walken was a household name. Or at least, the last name Walken was. His parents were famous movie stars, and he was the product of what the paparazzi liked to call an "A-list couple". So he was the golden boy of the golden couple, and he sure inherited his looks from them as well, his blond hair sandy and dreamy, his eyes the lightest blue, and full of spark. He was literally the guy that all the girls wanted, and he was glad to share some of him with them.<p>

Stepping into the compound after being a whole hour late, and surveying the surroundings, he lifted his sunglasses and played with it, clipping them onto his pants pocket. He quirked an eyebrow at the fellow students at Dalton Academy. They all looked plain, normal, uninteresting and too nerdy. Not his type. But whatever, he thought as he rubbed his bandaged fist absentmindedly, he just needed to stay here for a term to please his parents and then he could go.

Not like they cared too much for his grades though. Or anything else for that matter. To Connor, the only good use his parents were for was to pay the hefty credit card bill that came every end of the month. They sure didn't care too much when he started using his fake IDs (21? He looked barely 21. It was a surprise how anyone actually believed he was that old.) to get into the exclusive Hollywood clubs. They didn't seem to mind it too much when he would come home drunk many nights, throwing fits and knocking down vases and glasses. Then when stress from the paparazzi constantly surrounding his house, schoolwork and his frustrating dating life began to take a toll on him, something in him broke. It wasn't his fault, he was just _so freaking angry_all the freaking time. At least then his parents noticed. The last straw came when he had hit his neighbour the week before and knocked him completely unconscious. Connor couldn't remember what triggered the fight in the first place, but he remembered feeling avenged. Sure, later a little bit of guilt crept in, but his control over his own fist was starting to scare the people around him. And they decided to send him here, because "Walken goes to private school!" sounded a lot better than "Walken goes to rehab!"

Once he had taken his sunglasses off his face, the other boys started noticing him and realizing who he was. He merely smirked and soaked it all in. He didn't give a damn whether they were criticizing him or gushing about his parents, he liked attention. And being a pair of celebrities' son gave him all the attention he wanted. Just not the attention he really needed.

He wandered to his room, wheeling his luggage bag to his assigned dorm room. "Here's hoping the roommate's not a jerk," he said, chuckling to himself. One diva was enough for the school, and that one diva was himself.

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><p>Thomas Fields looked up as he heard a noise coming from the door. He put down the letter he was just reading and stared at the door, silently wishing the person had made a mistake and arrived at the wrong door. He had specifically requested for a single room, yet apparently it had gotten denied, because there on the bed next to his, was a letter in a plain envelope, with the name <em>Connor<em>written on it in golden, cursive handwriting, just like his own, except that his had his own name on it.

The door clicked open and his cornflower blue eyes met the light blue ones of this new stranger. He titled his head to the side, curious, as he took in the appearance of the boy standing at the door, who was doing the same thing to him as well. He watched the other boy quirk an eyebrow and settle his gaze over at the other bed.

"C-Connor, I presume?" he asked, trying to start some conversation and break the uneasy silence. If he were to stay with this boy for the whole school year, the least they could do was be on speaking terms right?

The other boy nodded immediately, remaining an air of cool and extended his hand out to the shorter boy, as a rare sign of respect. "The one and only Connor Walken, and you are?" he asked, winking quickly at the now startled Thomas.

Thomas bit his lip and his eyes landed on Connor's outstretched hand. Slowly, he also reached out his hand and barely grabbed Connor's hand, shaking it quickly before jerking his hand back. His roommate was now staring at him at the most curious way. He shrugged it off, not wanting to scare his new roommate with his eccentricity. He didn't need to know that much about him yet. "I'm Thomas. Thomas Fields."

"So I get to call you Tommy?" the blond asked, with a small smile on his face, as he began to open the envelope and read the letter inside.

"No. Just Thomas." the brunette replied, almost too quickly. He bit his lip again, hoping he wasn't coming off as rude.

"Well, I'd love to stay here and chat all day," Connor said in a half serious tone, "but I've got to attend some strange meeting. Screw this, I really wanted to finish unpacking. Just my freaking luck to have to go when I was feeling particularly productive."

Connor started to get up, but was interrupted by Thomas. "Wait, I got the invitation to the meeting too. Why don't we, uh, walk together?" he asked, fiddling with a button on his blazer nervously.

Connor merely nodded in response, not bothering to bring his own blazer with him as they exited the room and headed to the choir room in the west wing. Thomas almost wanted to stop Connor and remind him, but Connor had already walked too far ahead. Shrugging, he followed closely behind Connor, keeping in step. Whatever this meeting was, he hoped it would be quick. He had forgotten to unpack his Harry Potter collection.

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><p>"... you do realize bringing all of them together on the first day, especially with characters like Walken and Tellings, could cause a lot of discomfort to them?" Wesley Hughes' best friend, David Sullivan, whispered hurriedly, shooting looks to the 7 confused-looking freshmen seated on the leather couches of the choir room.<p>

"It's precisely why I called for the first meeting to be today actually. They'll thank me, I mean us, when they realize how useful it is to automatically have so many friends on the first day of school," Wes replied as he smiled at the tall, lanky blond guy who had just entered the room, motioning for him to take a seat and make himself more comfortable. Yeah, this was a good idea. He didn't really see how badly this could turn out. Surely these freshmen would have first-day-anxieties? Anyway, him, David and Thad were all a year older then him, and would therefore automatically command their respect right? Speaking of Thad...

"Where is our quiet brunette friend? Thad did receive the memo right?"

"I think the bajillion emails you sent us were enough of a reminder. Knowing Thad, he's probably dusting his collection of snow globes or something. I'll just go text him," David replied, opening up a blank text message screen and typing quickly with his fingers.

Wes nodded and grinned in agreement. He pulled on the sleeves of his blazer, staring at his hands as though he just remembered something. Today is bringing back too many memories he thought, shaking his head, composing himself as he turned to face the freshmen, who were all awkwardly just sitting next to each other. He opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by a very flustered Thad Eaving who burst open the wooden doors of the choir room. He muttered something that sounded like a lot of "sorry"s and took his seat at the table on the rightmost side of the long table at the side, clearly left for the three sophomores to sit at. David chuckled and took the leftmost seat, turning towards Wes, waiting for instruction. Wes made a mental head count of the people in the room. They were still short of 2 freshmen-

And right at that moment as Wes turned towards the door questioningly, the two said freshmen strode into the choir room, pushing open the merely held ajar doors of the choir room. Wes nodded at them, gesturing for them to take a seat. He recognized one of them, Connor Walken. He was already a much discussed name amongst the other sophomores. The other boy, whom Wes did not recognize at all, seemed to have been running to catch up with Walken... Wes smirked. This group's dynamic could be very interesting.

"Right, seeing as everyone is here, I'll begin. Welcome to the choir hall. We'll be meeting here quite frequently over the next few months, maybe more, so familiarize yourself with how to get here," he said, seating in the middle seat, folding his fingers on top of the table.

"I should probably explain why we are gathered here today," he continued, surveying the reactions from the freshmen in the room while he pulled up his sleeve to reveal the skin underneath.

There was a sharp intake of breath from everyone in the room, and two freshmen in particular turned extremely pale, turning their heads away from Wes.

Wes nodded, pulling on a brave face as he continued, "I used to cut myself. I was so pressurized by what my parents demanded from me, and the kind of life they were dictating for me, that I turned to the one thing I could actually control: the blood running through my veins."

He took a deep breath. It had been over two years, since he had turned to the razor lace for some sort of release. The scars still stayed, the scars that would forever remain as a reminder of what he had done.

"That was why my parents decided to send me to Dalton. The academics here are stimulating and challenging, but there's a really supportive environment here, and I would be able to be monitored by the boarding school staff," he said, scanning the room, not looking at anyone in particular.

"And that's what everyone in this room has in common. We need support. We were all sent here to escape from people that abused us, or to get help," he said, now looking at Connor pointedly. "Basically the three of us, Thad, David, and I, Wes, set up this group to help all of you. We're not saying you all have problems, but we're just here trying to help and fix you."

There was some murmuring as the freshmen looked at each other in confusion. So what, this was like a counseling group?

"I call bull. I don't need your help or anything," a good looking brunette freshman in the room piped up, standing up and making his way towards the door. He was stopped by David, who dragged him back to his seat.

"I must ask you to address yourself, freshman," Thad said, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Sebastian Tellings. And get your freaking hands off me!" he yelled, shaking free from David. "Whatever you got on me, it's hereditary okay? I don't want it either!" he growled, seating back on the couch with a huff.

Wes held his hand up, interrupting whatever Thad was going to retort back at Sebastian. "And your performance just now is exactly why we need to keep your condition under control, Tellings. Does anyone have any other things to say?"

"I'm with that dude on this, I don't need some rubbish therapy. I'm completely okay!" Connor said, standing up as well.

Wes turned towards Connor and gave him a look as well. "Judging by that little tabloid piece that the gossip mag did on you, I would say otherwise. Now sit down. And next time, Walken, remember to bring your blazer along with you. You are violating the uniform code of Dalton," he said calmly, raising an eyebrow at Connor's loose tie over his white collared shirt.

David spoke up from beside Wes. "Look guys, we have got your files, and all of you need help, whether it's from us or from each other. And we are willing to help. You don't have to admit what problem you have or had, but that's the first step to recovery. To kick things off, would anyone like to say anything about why they were sent to this no-bullying policy school?"

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><p>Blaine Anderson looked at his fellow freshmen, watching them avoid each others gaze. He tried giving reassuring smiles to them but everytime he caught someone's eye, they would look away and pretend nothing ever happened. He listened intently when the council members began to speak, noticing how the freshman on his right, whom he would get to know later as Sebastian, was fidgeting, playing with his fingers. He frowned at the brunette's nervous antics, wanting to maybe calm him down or comfort him in some way. Blaine was always like this, playing the big brother role amongst all his friends. He had gotten the instinct to protect and care for others from his own experience. For years, he had been worried about how his parents would take it if he were to come out to them. His younger sister, Trisha, was accepting of his sexuality, and would help him hide from the parents and cover for him everytime he snuck out to visit his boyfriend.<p>

Then one day he decided he was tired of sneaking around and telling lies, and though a very awkward and intense dinner, he slowly came out to his parents. He remembered the expression on his mother's face- one of shock then turning into worry as she noticed how her husband's face was starting to redden, his fist clenched tighter over his fork. There had been a lot of screaming that night, even involving the strong-willed Trisha, who refused to take their father's side. Blaine then had to go through the worst summer of his life, avoiding his father even when they were living in the same house, and flinching everytime his father came near. Some punches were harder to avoid, but he took them, he took them all. The bruises and cuts never required him going to the hospital, so he could never find help. He relied a lot on himself those few months. But he made it through, and now he was enrolled into the school he had eyed ever since he had heard of its existence. Dalton Academy... Full boarding... No bullying policy. It was the perfect school for him. No more would he have to face his father on an everyday basis.

5 minutes passed without anyone answering David's question. Blaine notice how the lean blond sitting opposite him was staring most particularly at the carpet under the coffee table that separated the couches. Blaine bit his lip. He knew how these things would work- someone needed to speak up or else no one would, because everyone didn't want to be the first to admit that they had a problem or was escaping from a problem.

Blaine cleared his throat loudly, startling the freshmen around him (the late coming brunette nearly fell off his chair in shock), and stood up slowly. He fixated his gaze on the kindly looking sophomore (his name was David?) and gave him a smile that barely reached the corners of his eyes.

"I'm Blaine Anderson. I come from pretty nearby. Anyway, I thought I would kick things off yeah? I came to Dalton because my father was abusing me pretty badly. I'm g-g-gay, you see," he said, brushing his fingers over his well gelled hair. "And er, being a rather conservative man, he uh, didn't take it too well when I told him. David was right. I do need support. I wasn't entirely expecting this, but I uh, think its a pretty good initiative." He gave the three sophomores another small smile. "And I'm willing to help any of you if you need it, I mean, my case might be trivial to some of yours, and I honestly like helping people in general." He shrugged, turning to face the freshmen around him now. He took a deep breath, and after receiving a nod from Wes, he sat down, staring at his hands, clasped neatly in his lap.

He was surprised to receive a pat on the back from the boy on his left, who had startling dark eye circles and eye bags. Blaine nodded at this boy, and gave him a smile as well.

He looked up, and noticed how many of the rest were giving him sympathetic looks and smiles, even though some seemed like they refused to even believe they were sitting in this very room. He turned his head to the side to face the three sophomores again as the leader, Wes, began to speak again.

"Thank you Blaine, for stepping up and being so supportive of this gathering," the Asian said, smiling genuinely at Blaine. Whatever nervousness Blaine had felt as he was contemplating whether or not to stand up had completely vanished by then. In fact, he felt... free. He had barely known these other boys for two hours, yet he felt like he could really trust them. Because he knew that either they went through the same circumstances, or they had other problems too. Everyone in the room was a disaster, just like him. They all needed each others help to fully "recover", just like him. A small smile etched across his face as he thought about this. He looked around the room, hoping for someone else to speak up as well. They all seemed to be more willing to speak up after he had set up the first example, but they were rudely interrupted by a bell.

"And that's the dinner bell, boys. Which marks the end of our first meeting. We'll meet here again at the same time same day next week. I hope no one is late, and that we all come in proper decorum," Wes said, looking pointedly at Connor. He waved his hands and dismissed them.

"Dude you need to chill, they're just freshmen," Blaine overheard David tell Wes as he walked behind them, following them to the dining hall. Wes simply gave David a look and made no other response. David chuckled and put his arm over Wes' shoulders. "I think you're just grumpy because you're hungry. Come on let's catch up with Thad. He's so far ahead already, geez!" David said, half-dragging Wes ahead.

Blaine smiled at their antics, walking awkwardly alone. He blended into the crowd of students heading towards the dining hall, humming a Katy Perry song to himself under his breath.

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><p>Jeff was one of the last few to leave the room. He had been awfully distracted by a painting that hung at one end of the room. After taking a close look at the painting, he turned to head out the door stopped in his tracks when realised he wasn't the last person in the room. There was a pale looking brunette, his hands clenched tightly in his lap, his eyes staring at nothing, the blank space in front of him.<p>

Jeff frowned, looking around to see if anyone else was there. None, they were the only two left in the choir room. Jeff took a cautious step towards the brunette, but got no reaction from him. It was as if the brunette was completely in his own world and didn't even realize that there was someone else in the room with him. Jeff hardly felt hungry nowadays, but this boy should, unless he was the same as him... Jeff approached the boy, seating himself quietly next to the brunette. He patted his shoulder once.

The brunette jumped in surprise, staring with wide chocolate eyes at the blond. Jeff grinned. "Hey... Aren't you going to go for dinner?" he asked frowning, his hand still resting on the other boy's shoulder.

The brunette didn't respond, but instead continued to give him a wide eyed deer-caught-in-the-headlights look. Jeff couldn't help but grin at the boy, but also couldn't help but notice how pale and sickly looking he was and how his hands seemed to be shaking. "I noticed that you seemed quite out of it during the whole um, meeting," Jeff confessed. Jeff had been sitting opposite this brunette and caught the other boy flinching and turning ghastly pale right after Wes revealed his scars on his arms.

"You don't have to tell me why..." Jeff continued. _Well, not yet at least._"But I think you should go get dinner?" he suggested, trying to get an answer out of him.

The brunette shook his head. "Sorry, the meeting just brought back, um, bad memories. I uh, used to, do what W-Wes did," he said, his Adam's apple bobbing as he made that confession. He looked up at Jeff with panic-filled eyes. "So sorry for unloading all of that on you. You just seem... trusty, even though I dont even know your name!" the brunette said, chuckling nervously, looking back down at his hands.

Jeff grinned, nodding. "It's okay, didn't you hear what Wes said? We all have problems. And I'm quite honored you find me trustworthy, even though we just met. And I bet you feel better telling me all that didn't you? Your hands have stopped shaking," he replied bluntly.

"I'm Jeff, by the way," he added, stretching out his hand.

"Nick," the brunette replied, giving Jeff a firm handshake.

"Righto, Nick, let me escort you to the dining hall?" Jeff asked, grinning.

Nick ran his fingers through his hair and shook his head. "I'm not that hungry. No appetite," he said, a small frown on his face.

"Oh?" Jeff replied, tilting his head to the side. "Well today is your lucky day, for I am not hungry either," he said, shrugging. He suddenly had a brilliant idea and turned to Nick excitedly. "Would you like to join me for a game of Guitar Hero? Please please please?" he asked, eyes sparkling. He was pretty sure that they were going against te school rules by skipping dinner, but Jeff never liked rules, or dinner.

Jeff took Nick's grin as an agreement and grabbed his hand, pulling him out of the room. "To my room! You might need to help me set it up first though, but Nick, I think we're going to be great friends."

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><p><strong>AN:** **Okay, so if nobody caught what was going on, basically this is before the formation of the Dalton Academy Warblers. All of the freshmen and sophomores mentioned have problems such as anger management, cutting, depression, abuse trauma etc. These were the reasons why they were brought into Dalton in the first place. Wes, David and Thad brought them all together to act as their mentors and help these freshmen get through their year. And yes, Thad, David and Wes all have "problems" too. Wes' one is cutting due to stress and David and Thad's will be revealed later. I think hints have been dropped on what could possibly be Jeff, Connor, Sebastian and Thomas' "problems", so I'll leave you guys to speculate, and I'll reveal them in due time.**

**Future chapters will consist of the group going on bonding sessions or hanging out together. There might be some fights, disagreements, comfort, and maybe… a little kissing? :D All in due time.**

**Of course, if you think that this material is too heavy for , I'd be okay with taking this fic down, so leave a pm or review.**

**R & R!**

**-Becca L.**


	2. Chapter 2 : Learning to Fall

**A/N: Hi! Firstly I apologise for the chapter taking more than a week to write… School continues to kick my butt, and sometimes I'm just so tired I don't write at all. Also I didn't realize that I should have planned out chapters, especially when writing multi-chapter fics, because ideas tend to get lost if I don't plan well. So I've already planned about 9 more chapters. Maybe it'll end sooner, maybe I'll add more chapters when inspiration strikes, but yeah, juts a heads up. So it's the best time to add this fic to your alerts if you haven't.**

**I'm actually quite surprised and happy that everyone seems to be liking the fic so far… which is a really good thing. :)**

**Here it is, Chapter 2.1. I had to split this chapter into two parts because it's very long, and I would've probably taken another week to complete + beta if I hadn't split it up. Ahead will be a lot of confessions and admitting of problems, I apologise in advance if it's too content heavy. I have 11 characters to work with and dragging it out would have been painful.**

**Warnings: Triggers ahead. Mentions of eating disorders, cutting, and death of a loved one. Do not go on if you feel uncomfortable, or you can read and skip the parts you feel most uncomfortable reading.**

**I don't own anything except my OCs.**

**Enjoy.**

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><p>Thomas opened his eyes slowly, letting out a loud yawn as he stretched his hands over his head. He then remembered that it was a Saturday, which meant no school. <em>Good, I shall sleep in then.<em> He turned to his side and hit something. Grumbling, and thinking it was the wall he turned to his other side and hit something even harder. Rubbing his forehead from the contact with the wall, he sat up slowly and looked to his side. _Wait... What the hell-_

He shrieked, pushing the other figure off his bed, and pulling his blanket up to his chin, eyes widened in fright. The figure yelped upon being flung off the bed and sat up from the floor, rubbing the back of his head. "What the hell dude?" he asked, getting up and flopping face first into the _correct_ bed this time.

"Oh, it's you Connor," Thomas said, heaving a shaky sigh of relief, hands still shaking from the contact, mind racing with images, images of the past-

"Yeah yeah yeah. Thanks for the wakeup call man," the blond said, his voice muffled by his pillows, raising his head ever so slightly so that he could glare at Thomas over the pillowcase.

"Y-y-you were in my bed," Thomas stammered out, taken aback, offended by the other boy's intense glare.

"Sorry, must have been too hammered from my trip to the pub," Connor said, smirking. He knew Thomas wouldn't tell on him, and Connor didn't care if he got detention for using his fake ID again. He turned his head to the side to see how Thomas would react, but suddenly sat up, light blue eyes widening, his expression turning from smugness to worry. "Dude, you're really pale... Are you trembling?" he asked rhetorically as he made his way quickly to Thomas who was shaking in the corner. He hesitated, frowning, as though he was questioning why he was even caring in the first place. He placed a hand tentatively on Thomas' knee.

"Don't touch me!" Thomas yelled this time, completely losing his cool, then shrinking even more into his corner. This wasn't how Thomas usually was. Thomas was always the cool one, the calm one, the one who kept his voice low. _Connor_, however, was the one who was always raising his voice. Not at Thomas though, but at teachers who reprimanded him. Connor would always look so pissed off when a teacher called on him in class, and he would pretend he didn't know the answer or he would reply with something laced with sarcasm and snark. He wouldn't openly admit to anyone that he actually _liked_this attention of course.

But now Thomas was acting weird, and Connor couldn't figure out why his roommate had just snapped at him. The blond held his two hands up, backing away from the brunette, getting off the brunette's bed and sitting down on his own. "The hell, man. I try to show a little care and I get pushed away. The only times I actually try, I get pushed away. What's your deal man?" he said, cursing under his breath. He pressed the bridge of his nose with his fingers and squeezed his eyes shut.

Thomas mumbled something, his eyes reddening and seemingly threatening to tear. Connor's face softened, giving the brunette a questioning look, raising one eyebrow.

"I said," the shy boy said, louder and clearer this time, his head tilting up and his lighter blue eyes staring straight into the other pair of light blue eyes, "that I don't like being touched."

"Oh, well then. No need to be so snappish about it. I even apologized, and do you know how hard it is for me to say sorry? I'm actually trying to make amends! It's pretty funny isn't it!" he huffed, folding his arms across his chest. "Look I understand if it's because I _am_, well, Connor freakin' Walken, I mean, not a lot of people can endure my shit. Not even my parents, and I think that says quite a lot if the people who raised you actually would rather leave you in the care of a sick conformist private school like this than actually ask you how your fucking day was."

Connor stood up and began pacing the room, a hand bunching up the side of his shirt. "And the fact that your own shitty parents don't even know what your favorite color is and could actually fail to be there on what, _four_ of my birthdays, and without warning. So hey, I completely understand if you completely hate me cause who would actually like me for me? No one apparently does."

He stopped when he realized how much he had been rambling. That was _way_ too much information. _Fuck. _Spending so much time with their little Group of freshmen must've turned him soft or something.

"B-but _I_ do," Thomas said, his forehead creasing in confusion while he watched as  
>Connor stopped pacing, turning around slowly and staring at the brunette.<p>

"What? Really?" he asked quietly, heart seemingly to have momentarily stopped, his expression soft. A few seconds later his face hardened and he sat back down on his bed, staring at the wall instead of at Thomas.

"Don't you dare screw with me, Fields," he snapped, his defense up. He had never had any real friends, friends that actually were friends of his just because of his personality. Most of his past friends we're his friends because of his parents' fame, and girls liked his reputation and good looks. It was all extremely annoying for Connor to be around people like that and yet still have to pretend to like their company.

So if Thomas were really lying, it would just be another slap in the face for him. Right when he thought that the brunette had been so _innocent_, kind and generous to him all week, and was the most genuine person he had met so far.

But Thomas wasn't lying. He shook his head vehemently as he stared at the blond, tilting his head to the side in thought. "It's really, _really_not because I don't like you, which I don't-I mean, I do like you-as a friend! Not that you're not attractive or-" the timid brunette stumbled on his words, turning an interesting shade of crimson.

He cleared his throat, than spoke calmly and quietly. "What I mean is, the reason why I don't like... _intimate_relations is because I have... this thing."

"What thing?" Connor asked, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"It's called haphephobia... Look it up. It's my, well, as Wesley puts it, it's my problem," the brunette explained, laughing nervously and running his fingers through his hair. He moved from his corner to the edge of his bed so he would be closer to Connor and it would be easier to talk to him. The blankets still remained wrapped firmly around him.

"It's a long story to how I got it, but simply put, I don't like the human touch. I fear it, and every time someone comes too close to me, I like, freeze up. It's a reaction I can't control," he explained, looking down at his knees.

"Oh," was the only response Connor could muster, which was surprisingly because it usually took a lot to leave Connor Walken lost for words. His eyes flickered to and from Thomas, as he let the news sink in.

So _that_was the reason why Thomas was always flinching when Connor would playfully punch him in the arm, and the reason why Thomas always wriggled when someone slung an arm over his shoulder. As he began to place two and two together, he swallowed, Adam's apple bobbing up and down, looking guiltily at Thomas.

In an attempt to cut the unbearable tension and awkwardness, he leaned over and gave Thomas a hard poke in the arm. "Does that mean I can't do that?" he asked, a smirk on his lips. He didn't want to press Thomas for any more details to the back-story of his condition, it would be revealed in due time anyway.

Thomas stared back at him, bewildered and confused, then cracked into a small smile and giggled. "Not stuff like that. I meant like intimate things," he said with a shiver. "But of course, if you continue to poke me, I will probably be quite annoyed." He grinned even wider at the thought, surprised and amused at how his roommate actually managed to turn the mood around.

"Challenge accepted," the blond replied calmly, smirk in place, as they left the room together for breakfast, with him poking the smaller brunette once every five minutes, even while they were eating breakfast.

* * *

><p>"Jeff, don't get me wrong, but: do you have an obsession with apple juice?"<p>

Jeff let out a gasp, feigning an expression of hurt on his face. "What is wrong with apple juice? It's delicious!"

"It's not that, it's just that I always see you only taking apple juice for breakfast..."

"Oh," Jeff replied, looking down at the apple juice box in his hands. He couldn't believe Nick had actually realised it, but then again, he was right. Jeff _did_only take an apple juice box for breakfast everyday that first week, without fail. "I don't know, it's just really yummy okay?" he said, trying to shrug it off.

The brunette sighed exasperated as he piled a stack of about 4 pancakes to his plate and spread some maple syrup over it, along with butter. Jeff licked his lips subconsciously and mentally smacked himself on the head for even thinking about getting some fattening yet sinfully good pancakes for himself...

"You should seriously try having a proper breakfast sometime, Jeff. You always seem to overstuff yourself for lunch," Nick nagged as they walked to an empty table. Jeff cringed inwardly, biting his lip.

Ever since they became friends a week ago after the meeting (and Jeff completely trashed Nick in all the video games they played that night), they had become fast friends, nearly inseparable. Both of them knew no one from their old junior highs, and the two both had too many similar interests. It was like they were twins. They both loved action flicks but had a soft spot for Disney movies like Aladdin and Peter Pan. They liked the same sports, the same singers and bands, and the same books.

It was exciting for Jeff to have found such a friend in Nick so quickly in the school year. He and the other people of their little group were fully accepting of Nick's sexuality, which he thought helped Nick a lot. Nick was smiling a lot more and opening himself up a lot more. Jeff couldn't help but grin at this.

But his smile soon faded when he realised... he would never have the same kind of courage as Nick. Because while Nick was so accepting of himself, and it was the world who was bringing the brunette down, the plea were reversed in Jeff's case. It was him against himself. It was him refusing to accept himself. How do you get out of a funk like his? He had tried for years, but there seemed to be no way to get out of a disorder like his.

"You okay there Jeff? You kinda zoned out."

"Yeah, I'm fine," he said, putting on a hopefully convincing smile on his face. He watched wide eyed as Nick pushed his plate to Jeff, with about two pancakes left.

"Eat, I don't want to see you fainting later during The Meeting."

Jeff was about to protest, when Blaine interrupted by sitting down at their table. The blond pouted at Nick, and flicked his unruly fringe to the side, getting into conversation with Blaine about classes and the homework they had that week. The history professor was particularly evil. He hoped it would take his mind off the pancakes, but he couldn't help but keep thinking about those damned pancakes.

Soon the table was filled by all the freshmen from The Group; all 8 of them. The other freshmen never understood how they all came to be friends so quickly, but the other freshmen didn't need to know anyway. Blaine had been the one on Monday, the first actual day of school, to suggest that they all sat together during meals so that they could talk and gain more confidence for their next meeting on Saturday. Blaine was becoming some sort of leader amongst them.

Nick, Blaine and Sebastian were discussing hot guys or something (Jeff heard Sebastian mention something about Tom Felton and Nick turned an interesting shade of pink in the face), Connor and Thomas were arguing; Or mostly, it was Connor annoying Thomas. Business as usual. Andrew and Trent were discussing football. Jeff quirked an eyebrow. He didn't know they were the types who liked football. Andrew was so pale and so thin and it looked like he hardly went out in the sunlight. Trent didn't look like the athletic type.

Jeff stated down at his plate of pancakes and took slow tentative bites, licking his lips after every bite. He soon finished the whole plate of pancakes, and although he had only eaten two pieces, he felt _sick_. He held his smile in place, nodding absentmindedly at the conversations going on around him, but he was no longer paying attention to the conversations. He drummed his fingers on the table, wiping the cold sweat on his forehead and flicking his fringe casually to the side. The whole time, he hoped that no one noticed his erratic behavior, especially not Nick.

As soon as Andrew stood up, to leave the table first, he did too- just too abruptly, accidentally kicking Nick's leg.

"I er, gotta go," he said, biting his lip and giving the rest an apologetic look, especially to Nick. "I'll catch up with you later, Nick." And with that, he bolted out of the dining hall, turning sharply at a corner and straight into the nearest toilet in relief. He flung open the nearest stall and shut the door, locking it before going down on his knees, clutching the toilet seat and letting the contents crawling up his throat spill out into the toilet bowl.

He coughed and spat out whatever was left in his mouth, breathing heavily and still clutching on to the toilet seat. His mind was racing. _What was that? God no... It's not supposed to come this easily. No. No. No. It's not supposed to be a natural reaction. Oh no._.. He raked a shaking finger through his blond hair, messing it up, but he didn't care.

He flushed the contents down the toilet and sat on the cold tiled floor. His head leaning back against the wall. He didn't usually feel this awful when he purged. Because, the other times, he was in "control" of when he had vomited. This was the first time that his own body decided to eject all the food. He was still stuck in a daze. Was this because his condition was getting more and more serious? Jeff had lessened his trips to the toilet, going only after dinners, but he had been eating really little for breakfast.

His mind went into an overdrive. What if someone had heard him puking? He could pretend that it was because he was hungover, even though he didn't even drink. That would make him look a lot less pathetic. He was pretty sure he was the only one with an eating disorder in this school.

Slowly, after what seemed like forever, he slowly got up and opened the door warily. Spotting no one, he made his way dizzily to the sink and wiped his mouth, washed the inside of his mouth with water to try to get rid of the disgusting taste. It would have to do till he went back to his dorm and got his mouthwash out. Splashing his face with water and drying it with the back of his sleeve, he shrugged his dirty blazer off and folded it neatly, placing it aside. Maybe no one would notice the vomit stains.

As he looked at his reflection in the mirror, he couldn't help but think how absolutely terrible he looked right there and then, his fringe sweaty and sticking to his forehead messily, loose blond strands sticking out here and there, a few splayed across his lip. He pushed his hair back and tried to neaten it, but on a sudden impulse though, dunked his whole head down and ran it under the tap, the cold water washing over his scalp and over his still throbbing head, cooling him down. He lifted his head, and stared at his reflection in the mirror. Pale, shaky, fragile, weak, helpless, in pain. Those were the words running through his mind as he fought back the urge not to completely break down in these four walls of the toilet. No, he would save them for later, when he got back to his room.

He shifted his gaze away and dragged his feet slowly to the toilet paper dispenser, a hand clutching onto the side of the sink to somehow support his weight. He was afraid he would get light headed and faint and then he would just lie on the linoleum tiles and no one would find him. He shook his head and quickly grabbed some toilet paper, drying his face. He pulled up his sleeve to hide the wet stains and hugged his blazer close to his chest, making his way slowly to the door.

He pushed open the door of the toilet, hoping to get to his room without bumping into anyone in The Group, because he really didn't want to talk right then, and he wasn't in the mood. He really needed to get back to his room and take a nap, and sleep it off. He thought about quickly texting Nick to cancel their plans to go to the nearby candy store, but he remembered his phone was in his blazer. His now dirty blazer. He would have to wait till he got back to his dorm room to contact Nick. He hoped Nick wouldn't find out or wouldn't probe. He was more than willing to be the shoulder to lean on for Nick, but he didn't want Nick to see him as fragile as he was now. Taking deep shuddering breaths, he made his way to the dormitories, keeping to the side nearest to the wall just in case he had a dizzy spell and felt like puking again.

But he was quickly stopped by a tap on the shoulder. The blonde turned his head slowly, cringing slightly, and was surprised by who it was who tapped him on the shoulder.

"Jeff?" the other boy said, giving him a sympathetic tight-lipped smile, hazel eyes piercing, "I think you and I need to talk. Come take a walk with me."

Jeff shifted uncomfortably and nodded.

* * *

><p>David stood in the choir room, hands in the pockets of his blazer, looking out the bay window. His eyes were glassy, and he didn't seem to be quite there at all. He wasn't admiring the outside view, although he was seemingly so. He had walked into the choir room after a short meeting with the school counselor, the absolute mastermind behind this whole project. Mr Davies had been helping Thad, Wes and David out in their freshmen year after they had willingly admitted themselves into counseling. Mr Davies was the one who suggested that the three use their new found knowledge and confidence to help others who needed it, and he had booked the choir room for them. Mr Davies had warned them about keeping the group a secret from the rest of the school. David had always thought of doing that as strange, because shouldn't they be spreading the word about this initiative? But Mr Davies had confided in them that the reason for keeping the group the secret was because the school management didn't particularly approve of it. So they were running some sort of an illegal gathering.<p>

He didn't know when Wes had come in, but it must have quite a while, for Wes had cleared his throat loudly from where he sat on a nearby couch and looked noticeably impatient, just like Wes usually was anyway.

"You remember what a week from now is?" David mumbled to Wes. To Wes, it seemed like the question was more directed to David himself rather than to him.

"Yes, I do. How could I honestly forget?" the Asian replied quietly. David could feel Wes' intense gaze on him. There was silence for a while, before Wes spoke up again.

"I'm going with you this time. We will not have a repeat of last year. Getting drunk dials from you and panicking trying to find you at 2am in the night was _not_fun at all."

David sighed, as if wanting to protest, and then thought the better of it. "Fine. But who will head the meeting? Thad?"

"I think he'll handle it just fine," Wes said, shrugging. There was yet another moment of silence. This time, David spoke up. His hands were clenched tightly into fists, held awkwardly stiff at his sides, his head tilted down, staring at his feet.

"I miss her a lot, you know? It's been two years, and I should move on, but-" he stopped, swallowing a lump in his throat.

"I just can't."

Wes stood up and made his way over to his friend, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder and squeezing it, a tight lipped smile on his face.

"It's okay. You don't have to move on."

David gave him a questioning stare. "What do you mean by that?" he said, frowning, his eyes still trained on the floor.

There was an audible sigh, before Wes replied. "Because I know you can't. And I know you try, but you loved her. You can never forget her."

David winced, the painful memories hitting him. The call, the funeral, the casket, the rose, the razor, the white walls, the unwelcoming recliner, the therapist with his clipboard, the first anniversary.

David tilted his head up ever so slightly so he could meet Wes' gaze. "I know. I just keep thinking, like what if I had- I had gone to stop her? I could've put a stop to it," he said quietly, squeezing his eyes shut and swallowing his tears. "I could've stopped her. I could've done something. But I didn't, Wes, I didn't. And I regret every single-"

Wes folded his arms, interjecting. "Maybe we'll never truly understand why she left when you did, but you _listen_to me, David Sullivan: I know you still think it's your fault, and you keep blaming yourself for not doing anything, but I'm going to tell you bluntly that no, there was nothing you could do to save her since you didn't even know she was planning on the suicide!" he said, clearly agitated. He took a few calming breaths and looked at David in the eye. "And that's the next step, David. It's not 'moving on', it's 'to stop blaming her death on yourself'."

David choked back a sob as he buried his head into Wes' neck. Wes took a step back in shock, returning the embrace. David was so grateful for his best friend, Wes. (He was thankful for his other best friend Thad but the other sophomore wasn't in the room at the moment)

"Thank you for being here for me, Hughes," David said, letting out a laugh as they pulled away. "I don't know where I'd be without you and Thad and Mr Davies. Probably not even alive," he said, shaking his head and sighing.

Wes gave David a stern look and lightly punched David's arm. "Hey, we promised never to ever mention about your attempted suicide ever again remember? You're not allowed to even think about it."

David smiled for what felt like the first time that day, and nodded. "Yes sir. Now let's go find Thad and get food and coffees before the meeting starts. I'm awfully hungry, and I think the meeting today will be _quite_ interesting."

Wes nodded. "Let's go then."

* * *

><p>The school pavilion was a personal sanctuary for Thad. Whenever he felt upset or the memories continued to haunt him, he would come here and take a breather. Just the other day, he had been on a walk around the neighborhood and bumped into the bullies from his old school, and they sure did remember him. He was alone at the time and was at least a head shorter than all of them, so he did get beaten up pretty badly. The cut on his lip was still there but it was less visible. The bruises he could manage, as long as he didn't forget to be gentler when moving about.<p>

Now, as he walked into the pavilion with the blond freshman in tow, he couldn't help but think how far he had come since the day he became a student at Dalton. Unlike Wes and David, Thad had entered Dalton in the middle of the year, due to some problems at his old school. He was a loser, a freak, and he loved to dance and sing. So although he was 100% certain he was straight, they called him names like queer, and weird, and nerd. Other than being physically weak, he was emotionally weak too, and one day he buckled under all the taunting and the name-calling.

Back then, he didn't have a sanctuary like this to go to. He thought the only way to escape was to go to heaven. Because God would be kind to him right? Because if he could go to heaven, everything would be perfect right? Yet, the angels seemed to have said 'no', and kept him here on Earth. And once he was transferred to Dalton and he had heard about this project from Mr Davies, he _knew_ he had to help out. He was kept on earth for a reason.

The blond freshman that he had brought along was now looking curiously around the pavilion. The flower bushes were plain and uninteresting, yet the other boy seemed to be taking quite an interest in them. Thad cleared his throat to catch the attention of the other boy.

Jeff jumped in mild shock, frowning apologetically, and took a seat on the bench in the pavilion, hugging his blazer to his chest tightly, even though he had noticed how it was starting to smell. Thad sat in the spot right next to Jeff, and turned his body slightly so that he could talk comfortably with the other boy.

"So uh, Jeff… how was your morning?"

Jeff shrugged, seemingly indifferent about the question. "P-pretty normal, the usual you know?" he said, coughing and trying to hide his obvious stammer. Thad caught onto the hesitation in Jeff's voice however.

"Jeff, you don't have to hide it from me… I heard you. I heard you uh, in the bathroom," he said, drumming his fingers absentmindedly on the seat of the bench. "Do you want to talk about it? I don't think you'd be comfortable talking about it today during the meeting, will you?"

Jeff shook his head and let out an audible sigh. "No, I won't," he admitted. He looked at Thad directly in the eye and Thad couldn't help but notice how his eyes were glassy and it looked like tears were brimming and threatening to spill. Jeff opened his mouth as if to continue, but his confidence seemed to die down in that instant and he shut it again, looking away.

"Start by telling me when it all started? When did you start having bulimia?" Thad asked, waiting patiently for a response.

Jeff let out a shaky breath and continued to stare on the ground, swallowing nervously before speaking up. "Well, if you want to know when I started going to the doctor's, it traces back to about half a year ago. But I really started binging and purging from last year…"

Thad let out a low whistle, and placed his hand on Jeff's shoulder. He didn't really know how to respond to that. Jeff was an attractive and gorgeous boy with a lean figure. He couldn't figure out why Jeff would feel weight-conscious, out of all people. "And what happened this morning? I have no knowledge about eating disorders, but it sounded really bad… or do you still binge and purge?"

Jeff wanted to say no, but realized that that was only partially true. "I used to uh, vomit after every meal, but I've tried stopping and nowadays I only do after dinners," he said shrugging. "That's kinda like cheating isn't it?" he said, chuckling nervously.

Thad dropped his hand and brought his hands together in his lap and fidgeted. "I think it's good you're at least making some progress, Jeff." Thad said, giving him an encouraging smile.

Jeff merely gave him a look. "This morning… I don't know why, but my body had a sudden _reaction_ to vomit. It felt like a _reflex_. That's the part that scares me the most," he admitted, his breath hitching as he remembered the feeling of the vomit crawling up his throat, the light-headed spells…

"Hey, hey, hey," Thad said, his hand gently caressing Jeff's shoulder. "It's okay. That's the whole point of The Group, isn't it? We'll try to help you recover and get well." The honest truth was that Thad had no idea how to solve Jeff's problem, because he knew none of the others had any history of eating disorders. Jeff's was the only case. "I'll bring you to see Mr Davies. He'll know how to help you. I'm not very good at this, if you couldn't tell," he said, getting up and reaching out his hand to Jeff.

Jeff looked at Thad's outstretched hand for a while. He knew that the cause of his problem was himself, his view of himself, his conception of his own body image. He didn't think anyone would be able to help him anyway. But it felt good being able to let someone in on his little secret. He felt guilty for dragging Thad into this, but he also felt relieved, because it was like the burden was lifted off his shoulders a little bit. If Thad, someone who was older and wiser than he was, trusted this Mr Davies (whoever he was), he was willing to take a shot. He didn't want a repeat of what happened earlier. That had been one of the scariest experiences of his life. It still made him shiver and break out in cold sweat just thinking about it.

Giving Thad a small smile, he let Thad pull him up. "Is it okay if I go back to my dorm room first? I need to probably take a shower and get cleaned up," Jeff said, looking at the folded blazer in his arms pointedly.

"Oh, sure, of course," the brunette said, gesturing the way to the dormitories. "I'll just get Mr Davies to come meet us here. He does love the flowers."

"And so do I," said Jeff, nodding and making his way to the dormitories.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Hope you guys liked the chapter so far. Do feel free to send me PMs regarding any sort of inaccuracies you see in the fic, or leave a review. Anonymous is on. Thank you so much for your reviews, favourites, and alerts. They mean so much to me, and they usually are the highlight of my day.**

**R&R!**

**-Becca L.**


	3. Chapter 3 : Going Through the Motions

**A/N: Short authors note to apologize for the delay. Also, this is a continuation from the last chapter, so you should read the last chapter in order to fully understand this one.**

**Warnings: Triggers ahead. Mentions of eating disorders, cutting, and a lot of insensitive words are said. ****I don't claim to be an expert on eating disorders, neither am I an expert on self-mutilation.**

**I don't own anything except my OCs.**

**Enjoy.**

* * *

><p>Jeff took a deep calming breath as he raised his hand slowly. He instantly felt everyone in the room turning their heads to stare at him, their reactions ranging from pleasant surprise to disbelief. Jeff was always the cheerful bouncy one. The rest of the freshmen had always thought Jeff's problem had to be something minor. Some of them were even amazed at how he managed to keep on his happy chirpy little facade, even with no knowledge of what Jeff was suffering from.<p>

"Jeff Sterling, you may take the floor," Wes said with a knowing nod as Thad leaned over to whisper something in his ear.

Jeff's nervous gaze met the encouraging one of Thad's, who gestured quite eagerly for the blonde to take the floor. He held eye contact and stood up slowly, subconsciously straightening his tie due to his nerves.

He decided that to be able to do this, he just needed to remember 3 things: One, just look at Thad. Thad knew. Thad would support him. Two was to make sure he actually remembered to speak _English_and not suddenly break out into alien language with his emotions getting the better of him. Three was to just keep breathing; to remember to breathe.

He took a deep breath, mentally repeating the three things in his head, as he began to speak.

"So uh, hi everyone. I'm Jeff, as you all know," he said simply, his shaky voice barely noticeable. _So far so good._"Today I stand here, because I have something I need to share."

He was so tempted to look around the room at this point. He could sense Nick shifting uncomfortably by his side. Jeff bit his lip. _Crap, Nick probably thought I would tell him my problem first because that's what's he did._His brown eyes flickered momentarily to Nick, before he turned his attention back to the rest of the room.

"I think maybe some of you are concerned about what went on this morning, why I went away in a rush and-" he paused, taking another deep breath. "And why I wasn't present for the rest of the afternoon." He felt like he was directing this to Nick, who he had promised to hang out with, but never fulfilled that agreement. He was apologetic, of course, and he didn't even get a chance to explain himself before the meeting had begun.

"T-Thad urged me to maybe just tell everyone what my problem was, and yes, he already knows," Jeff said, keeping his gaze on Thad, who gave him a small thumbs up. Jeff felt a small surge of courage. He couldn't believe what he was going to tell these people. These people he had so readily trusted and befriended over the past week, yet he always had this nagging doubt in the back of his mind and a fear that they would shun him after this revelation…

It was now or never. No backing down. With another deep breath, he shut his eyes, and opened his mouth to speak, feeling a lump in his throat stating to form, his breath coming out in shaky bursts.

"I... I have an eating disorder problem."

* * *

><p>The freshman at the corner of the room sat up a little straighter at Jeff's words, dropping his arm which he had previously been using to prop his chin on.<p>

A multitude of emotions washed through him, and his brain went into overdrive, completely ignoring the mixed responses from the people around him.

He firstly felt sadness, because no one should go through anything like that. He knew about eating disorders. He had read and studied about them in his last school, and his ex-schoolmates always hinted to him that he ought to learn from the anorexics and start drastically losing his pudge.

Those suggestions hurt of course. Trent always knew he was a little on the heavy side, but he embraced his figure. That's why he felt sympathy next. Cause both he and the blond freshman were going through similar problems. Body image emphasis.

Except Jeff hated his while Trent fully embraced his and was a strong advocate for loving your body image. Then he felt confusion... And anger, because how come people were saying it was okay for him to be not okay with his own body? That wasn't right. Jeff should be changing his mindset.

Before he could stop himself, he was raising his hand slowly up into the air. The buzzing from the freshmen around him stopped and Wes nodded once, signaling his approval for Trent to speak.

"I'm sorry, Jeff, but how dare you?" he said, remaining seated but turning his glare towards Jeff, who just stared back, mouth hung slightly open in shock.

The whole room turned silent, all eyes shifting to and from Trent and Jeff, mostly confused and wondering what the hell was going on.

"What d-do you mean by that?" Jeff sputtered. Nick slowly got up and stood next to Jeff, eyeing Trent, as if challenging him to make a comeback. Trent rolled his eyes. He just never meant to hurt anyone, but he thought Jeff just needed a serious wake up call.

"What I mean is I think you need to reevaluate your life, Jeff. I am uncomfortable already, because while you're there, stuck in a world of pretend where you see yourself as inferior and inadequate just because of your body type, I got bullied everyday in my old school for my weight okay? Pushing into lockers, never-ending teasing, jabs and taunts," he snapped back at Jeff, fists clenched. "So how dare you treat yourself like that? I know how eating disorders work. It's all you. It's all up in your head. You think that you're not perfect. But you know what, screw that. How dare you see yourself in that light, when I'm here, I get teased and bullied for being fat? And you, Jeff, you have a freaking body of an athlete. It's just not right!"

Nick's eyes glazed with fury as he lunged at Trent, Jeff falling backwards onto the couch in shock at Trent's harsh words. Sebastian immediately got up, alarmed, and struggled to hold Nick back, Connor following close behind and attempting to help Sebastian. Blaine stood in the middle of Trent and Nick, to act as a safety barrier, while Andrew and Thomas made their way over to Jeff, who had started breaking down. Trent was left all alone in this battle.

"Whoa, whoa! Sit down!" Wes stood up and roared from the table, pointing his fingers at Nick, but directing his glare at Trent. "Everyone! Sit back down!" Nick continued to struggle against Sebastian and Connor and Connor had the sudden urge to just slap Nick and wake him up, but that would bring rather nasty consequences. "I said, sit down!" Wes continued to shout. Connor's eyes met Sebastian's, and they nodded once, pulling one angry Nicholas Duval onto the couch, Connor pushing him back onto the couch. Sebastian sat awkwardly in between Nick and Jeff, his hand gripping onto the sleeve of Nick's blazer, just in case. Nick folded his arms, glaring at Connor and Sebastian, cursing under his breath because they held him back.

"I mean everyone, Trent," Wes said, pinching the bridge of his nose as he kept his composure and sat back down on his seat behind the council table. Trent nodded once and sat down respectfully, looking into the empty space in front of him. Blaine sat down warily next to Trent, as if to try and neutralize the situation somewhat. Thad's mouth remained hung open in shock as he looked frantically at Trent, Jeff, Nick and Wes. David peeked from behind his fingers, as he had covered his face during the mini fight. Things were not boding well for the group at all.

Jeff just sat shaken, his face buried into the side of couch, his face pale as a ghost. Obviously he didn't expect an attack like that to come from Trent. Whether or not it was Trent's good intentions, it still shocked Jeff to his core. It was a slap to the face, all those words. It pierced him straight to the heart. There was very little that Thomas and Andrew could do to soothe and comfort him.

There was silence in the room again, save for Jeff's muffled sobs. Wes shook his head, frowning. "Okay, that's it. Everyone, meeting is over. Now. Go," he said curtly, watching the freshmen file out the room; the doors held open to them by Thad and David. Sebastian stayed close to Nick, quietly escorting him out, while Andrew and Blaine helped Jeff get off the couch and back to the room he and Blaine shared.

"Wait," Wes said, as he tapped Trent's shoulder while he walked past the council table to get out of the room. "I want to speak to you." Trent raised an eyebrow, lifting his chin ever so slightly, but he stopped in his tracks and waited till Thad and David exited the room and closed the doors, leaving just Wes and Trent in the choir room.  
>"About today…"<p>

"Look, if you're just going to ask me to apologize, or kick me out of the group, just do it straight," Trent said, annoyed. He didn't like long-winded speeches.

Wes frowned in confusion, and then shook his head slowly. "I'm not going to kick you out. Firstly I don't have the authority to, and secondly, I think you can actually _help _Jeff, if you direct your thoughts and concerns the right way."

"Oh?" Trent asked, expression softening.

"That doesn't mean I agreed with how you reacted to Jeff's reveal. You must know, and realize this, Trent, that it takes an awful amount of courage to do what Jeff did today. What _you_did today, on the other hand, wasn't courage. It was recklessness. Can you at least promise me you will never attempt such behavior again in future meetings?" He continued to stare intently at the freshman, his gaze calm, yet there was a sense of obey-or-die. Trent was still only a freshman after all, and Wes was still older, and thus automatically garnered more respect.

Trent nodded once and made a move to leave, but Wes spoke up again.

"I'm not quite done yet, Nixon," Wes said calmly as he waited for Trent to turn around and face him again. "As for an apology towards Jeff, I cannot and do not want to force out an insincere apology out of you, so I will just hope you will find it in your conscience to at least say sorry or explain clearly your intentions. Remember what I said, Trent. Your message is powerful, and your experience is similar to Jeff's. I want you to use it to _help_Jeff, and not bring him down. The Council doesn't claim to be exerts. Our main aim is to let all of you learn from each other and help each other. So I ask this favor of you; to learn to help Jeff, okay?" he said, smiling for the first time in the conversation. "I think you'll find it therapeutic to you too."

Trent swallowed a lump in his throat, and felt a wave of guilt wash over him. He knew he had to apologize, but it was too soon, and it made him feel uneasy. Trent Nixon wasn't one who would give in to others easily. Trent Nixon stands his ground.

Maybe sometime later when the storm calmed, Trent would find that same courage and admit his mistakes, but until then, he silently decided that he would just do his best to be a support instead. He nodded at Wes, and then pushed open the choir room doors, exiting with his head deep in thought.

Wes raised his left arm, quickly shaking down the sleeve to check his wristwatch. 30 _minutes to dinner. I've got time,_ he mused to himself, as he made his way quickly to the dormitories, his steps picking pace as he got nearer to the one door he set as his destination. He stopped right in front of the door, slightly breathless. Gaining his composure and straightening out his blazer, he knocked on the door once, and waited.

The door opened slowly to reveal an evidently calmed down Nick, who stared at Wes in surprise, and then he frowned. Wes gave him a small smile, knowing that Nick must have thought that Wes' motive for finding him was probably to reprimand him.

Well, there was that, but there was also another thing that Wes had to discuss with Nick. Something he had come up with while watching Jeff talk earlier that evening.

"Could I come in? I need your help on something," Wes said politely, stepping into the freshman's room as the door swung open wider to let him in. Nick's roommate was absent. _Good, _Wes thought,_ at least we have some privacy._

Nick stood awkwardly by the door while Wes took a seat on what he hoped was Nick's bed. There was silence as Nick tried to find the right words to start the conversation, and ask why Wes was there, without being too blunt and coming off as rude. But Wes was the one who spoke first. "So, Nicholas, I came here to ask you a favor. You… are /pretty/ close with Jeff Sterling, aren't you? Like really good friends yes?"

_Best friends._ Nick thought, then wanted to laugh at himself, because it had only been a week and he was _already_ declaring Jeff as his best friend? He bit his lip and nodded. "Yeah, I am, why?"

Wes clasped his two hands in his lap and looked down, thinking about how he would phrase what he wanted to ask of Nick. "I was just wondering… if you wanted to help him out a little more," he said. "I'm asking you to sort of be his recovery buddy or something, and help him through getting better. Monitor his situation. Make sure he's eating, and he eats adequately. Make sure he never tries to purge again," he added after seeing the confused look on Nick's face. He could see Nick taking his suggestions into consideration, his eyes deep in thought.

Nick looked up at Wes after some time, and spoke slowly. "Sure, but I'm not an expert in these kind of things, and I can really only offer support. Shouldn't we be sending him to a clinic or something…?"

Wes simply nodded. "Of course we are. I'm going to speak to Mr Davies about it. I realized that maybe it was a little too rash for David, Thad and I to accept this responsibility of setting up a help group like this. We need professionals, we need adults. But like Mr Davies told me, some of us might be unwilling to accept help from professionals. What I _am_ asking from you, Nick, is that you just help Jeff open up more okay? He needs to let people help him. If he had gone a week without you intervening or him asking for support, I think you need to help him with that," Wes said, biting his lip. He raked his fingers through his hair as he stood up. "I can't ask Anderson, because I might need Anderson's help to be a 'neutralizing buddy' for someone else. But I think you and Jeff would be perfect for each other," he said with a smile. "You clearly care for him a lot."

"By the way," Wes added, stopping himself from heading towards the door as he was struck with an afterthought, "have you told Jeff about your own condition?"

Nick nodded, swallowing a lump in his throat and avoiding eye contact with Wes. "Yeah, I-I have."

Wes walked over to Nick and patted his shoulder sympathetically. "You and I are the same, aren't we? In terms of, you know…" his voice trailed off as Nick pulled up the sleeve of his own blazer to reveal his scars.

Wes barely flinched as he took in the sight of Nick's scars. He could recognize some really deep ones, and several shallow ones. Nick had more scars than Wes. They were shallow scars that probably were inflicted just for the pain and none that would seriously threaten his life. Wes was relieved at that, but wounds and scars were still wounds and scars. Shaking his head slightly, he helped Nick pull his sleeve down.

"Just let me know if _you_ need any help okay? Don't regress," Wes said, nodding at Nick as he opened the dorm room door and took his leave. It was about time for dinner anyway.

* * *

><p><em>You don't have <em>_to have money,_

_To make it in this world._

_You don't have to be skinny baby,_

"But you are Jeff, really, I mean, look at you; I have even more flab on me." Blaine said, stopping his singing momentarily. Jeff simply rolled his eyes, shifting uncomfortably and motioning for Blaine to continue.

_If you wanna be my friend._

_Oh you just gotta be happy,_

_But sometimes that's hard._

_Just remember to smile smile smile_

_And that's a good enough start._

_So if you aint good looking,_

Blaine mouthed a "but you are!" before continuing.

_Don't you let it get you down._

_And if you're love life ain't cooking baby,_

_There'll be more fish around_

_Oh you just gotta stay happy,_

_So put away that frown._

_So just remember to smile smile smile,_

_And turn the world around._

_So just remember to smile smile smile_

_Smile smile smile_

_Smile smile smile_

_C'mon show us your teeth and what you got underneath_

"Alright, alright, you're making me laugh," Jeff exclaimed, smiling for what felt like the first time that day. It was a strange song choice for sure, but Blaine had simply noticed how much Jeff loved McFly, and picked out the most upbeat song he could so that he could cheer Jeff up. It was really nice of him to do so, even though it was a little bit strange for Jeff.

"You're not secretly in love with me are you, Blaine?" Jeff teased.

Blaine opened his mouth in shock and shook his head vigorously. "No no no, even though I'm gay, doesn't mean I fall in love with every single guy I see. I just like cheering people up."

"Oh, so you have a type?" Jeff asked, wiggling his eyebrows.

"Brunettes mostly," Blaine said, biting his lip and blushing. He never really thought about that question before, and it kind of came out of nowhere, but he guessed he found brunettes more attractive. But he hadn't found anyone he liked at Dalton yet. It was too soon anyway.

Jeff quirked an eyebrow in amusement. "Like, Nick?" he asked casually.

Blaine shrugged. "Maybe," he said, heading towards the bathroom to get ready for sleep. It had been a long and tiring emotional rollercoaster of a day, and he just really wanted to get some good sleep right there and then.

Jeff nodded, watching Blaine leave and make his way towards the bathroom. He laid down on his bed and stared at the ceiling, deep in thought. He realized that he never ever put a stamp or label on his sexuality. No one ever questioned it, so he never really thought about it. He had girlfriends before, but none of them were really the one. And then there was that weird feeling he got when Blaine was talking about his sexuality and how he was attracted to Nick… Jeff shook his head. One problem at a time. He didn't need sexuality confusion to trouble him further.

Dinner had gone well. Nick had piled a balanced meal onto Jeff's plate and made Jeff eat up everything on the plate, and even made him drink up his glass of orange juice up to the very last drop. Nick had been really fussy over him during dinner, and while part of him was annoyed, it was nice to be taken care of like that. And it was really nice to have a meal, and not wanting to just throw it all up afterwards.

Nick had pulled him aside after the dinner to talk about being 'neutralizing buddies', as Wes put it. The name amused Jeff, because it made them sound like batteries, but he was okay with that plan. In fact, he was rather glad Wes picked Nick to be Jeff's buddy because Jeff definitely was closest to Nick, and at that point was the only one who knew about Nick's self-harm past anyway.

So Jeff decided that his mission for the week was to get Nick to confess his problem to the group. Get him to open up about it. Because even though it sucked having Trent pull him down like that, Jeff felt _free _and_ liberated_, like now that he told the whole Group about his issues, he could _trust_ them. Jeff never had a support group or a trustworthy circle of friends like this ever in his life. This felt really good. Jeff didn't even feel pressured after Trent's response. He just thought that maybe Trent was slightly right, and that maybe, yes; he needed a change in his mindset about himself. And the best part was that he got to do exactly that, one step at a time, at his own pace, because he already had all the love and support from his friends in the Group.

And then for the second time that day, he smiled.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Hope you guys liked the chapter so far. Do feel free to send me PMs regarding any sort of inaccuracies you see in the fic, or leave a review. Anonymous is on. Thanks to everyone for their support so far. I'm really glad this fic is picking up.**

**R&R!**

**-Becca L.**


	4. Chapter 4 : Keep Holding On

**A/N: Everything is quite angsty in this chapter. The next one will be lighter, trust me.**  
><strong>In other news, the next chapter will probably take a lot longer cause I'll be overseas. Maybe I'll type the next chapter on my phone on the tour busplane… Till then, I love you guys so much! 3**

**Warnings: Triggers ahead. Mentions of character death, suicide, I don't claim to be an expert on anything.**

**Oh, If you like the fic, you should check out a roleplay my friend set up, which has a plot similar to this. I myself am still contemplating whether or not to audition for the roleplay. We'll see. The link to the role-play: **http:/daltonacademy-for-mental-illness (dot) tumblr (dot) com/

**I don't own anything except my OCs. In this verse, Sebastian has always been in Dalton. Shh, just go with it. :P**

**Enjoy.**

* * *

><p>Andrew was always the quiet one in his circle of friends, regardless whether in his old school or in Dalton. But he did speak up at the appropriate times and whatever he said was always helpful and constructive.<p>

He liked the quiet. He liked being quiet. It gave him time to think, to imagine and to observe. That was the reason why he always knew what to say. He was always noticing quirks of other people, from trivial habits like how Jeff liked to flip his bangs to the side at least once during every conversation, or suspicious behavior like how Nick liked to wear long sleeved clothes, even when they were outside and the sun was blazing down on them.

His family was also a quiet one. His sister Ariel was also a quiet girl, and so was his father. He couldn't remember the last time a lively conversation had happened at the dining table. It was just depressing thinking about that, and there was always an ache in his heart whenever his mind wandered to these memories.

Meals at the Rivers table were always held in silence, save for the sound of cutlery, or the glasses hitting the table with a soft thud. There was also at times the occasional request for someone at the other end of the table to 'pass the salt', but those were rare, because the Rivers family was a small one after all, and most condiments on the small dining table were within reach.

He remembered that they used to be lively, his mother singing a song while setting the plates, his father's Santa-like jolly laughter, and his sister laughing while carrying a shrieking baby Joseph. These memories would creep up on Andrew during his moments of quiet, and he would smile a crooked smile, for with joy, the memories brought pain.

Joseph was 3 and Andrew was 9 when it happened.

Andrew had gotten home from school one day, his spirits high. He had gotten a letter from school inviting him to play a piano piece for the upcoming staff dinner. He had clutched the golden envelope tightly in his hands and burst open the front door, his heart thumping wildly in his chest and the brightest beaming smile on his flushed face.

But one look at his mother's face when she lifted her head up to turn towards the door made his heart stop momentarily, and not for the right reasons. Her eyes were swollen, and there were tear tracks on his mothers' face. He dropped his bag and made his way towards his mother warily, noticing how dry his mother's eyes were, like she had cried for so long that she couldn't cry anymore.

"Joseph is gone." That one sentence uttered through his would echo in his head forever.

At first Andrew didn't understand. What did his mother mean by gone? He knew Joseph had been terribly sick that week and his parents had been taking care of him 24/7. It was too confusing for 9 year old Andrew to handle. When children got sick, they would recover in at most two weeks right? There was that time Andrew got the chicken pox, and his parents made him stay in bed and his mother took leave off work to take care of him, but he got well two weeks later, and was able to run around, laugh, play and talk to his siblings. He didn't understand why Joseph never woke up.

That was when his family became quieter. Without an active toddler running around and making noise, and fussing over everything, the house did get eerily quieter. His parents no longer laughed, and his mother no longer smiled, while his father held a tight-lipped one for good measure. His family was slowly crumbling, and many a sleepless night would Andrew creep up to his parents' room and hear muffled sobbing coming from his mother, who he realized two years later that she had blamed herself for Joseph's death. She had felt responsible for not being a good enough mother, that she couldn't even protect Joseph from illness taking her son away forever.

Looking back on these memories as he sat down on the grass patch, lying back on the grass to stare at the stars in the sky, he realized this was probably the time his problem started to take shape. He squinted as he looked up at the glittering stars, and lifted up a hand from behind his head, lazily tracing out the constellations. The Big Dipper, the Little Dipper, the Orion.

Tomorrow was Saturday.. And Saturday meant meeting days. And meeting days meant another window of opportunity for him to just to open up to everyone about his insomnia. But no, wouldn't it be selfish of him to deprive others of the time? His problem was so _trivial_, compared to what the others were suffering from. Maybe he didn't even need to tell them. He would just stay in the background, forgotten… he shook his head, focusing on the stars instead.

He remembered when his mother taught him about the stars, and how he had begged her every night for a whole month to go out to the front porch and point out what each constellation was, because he wanted to recognize them and be able to teach Joseph one day about the stars. She would laugh and hold him tight and point them out, and sometimes they would both lie on the grass together and just stare at the night stars.

4 whole years after Joseph passed away, his mother took her own life.

It was terrifying for 13 year old Andrew to wake up one Monday morning during the summer holidays and bring up a tray of breakfast for his mother (his father was away on a business trip), and realize that his mother was not responding to his shaking or nudging, and in her hands clutched an empty bottle of sleeping pills. Andrew watched tv, he knew about suicide through overdose. He remembered running to the phone and punching the three numbers, but he knew it was already too late… it was all too late. His mother had left too. His mother had gone to join his brother.

Then came the nightmares, which was the precise reason why Andrew was awake at (he pulled up his sleeve and looked at his watch) 4 am in the morning. It was the reason why he couldn't sleep. It was the reason why his father had to send him to therapy. Why sometimes after classes, the teachers at Dalton held private tutoring sessions for him when he fell asleep in their classes or when he just couldn't concentrate because he was just so tired.

His nightmares were mostly made of himself never waking up again.

* * *

><p>Thad already knew that it was<em> not<em>a good idea.

Thad was a good person to turn to when one needed a level headed and clear thinker to help solve problems, or to offer probable solutions, or to just be there. But there was no way in hell he could rise up to be a leader, and manage a group of 8 troubled freshmen on his own, after the fiasco that was last week? The past few lunches and dinners that they had together as a whole entire group had been intense, even though Trent apologized and Jeff forgave him. The problem was, Nick hadn't forgiven Trent yet and the rest chose to just remain quiet, thus meals at their table were very quiet, or very awkward.

Thad couldn't handle this. Thad wasn't a leader, like Wes or David. As much as Thad would like to exert his power in his position and seniority, he just didn't know what to do with a group of 8 troubled freshmen.

And to add to that, there were no adults around to help him and supervise the meeting. Thad, Wes and David had all gone to see the school counselor and pseudo mentor Mr Davies after the last meeting, and Mr Davies did promise he would try to find a professional psychiatrist or a doctor to help the freshmen, but they had yet to receive a reply from Mr Davies about it. And Mr Davies was also out of town that whole week. Great.

Thad knew why Wes and David had to excuse themselves from the meeting though. He knew they were headed to the cemetery to remember Amy. Today was the two year anniversary of her death. _Anniversary_wasn't the right word though. It always seemed too cheery when used in this context. Thad felt bad about complaining, even if it was just to himself, because he felt selfish for not wanting to single-handedly take charge of the group. Then again, they were freshmen, not 5 year old kids. Thad shouldn't be feeling that upset about taking over the meeting just for one day.

Thad had a better idea how they could spend their afternoon though.

"Hey guys," he greeted as he sat down at the breakfast table. He was the last one to come down for breakfast that day. Wes and David both gave him a smiled and nodded, and all three of them shared a look before Wes and David excused themselves from the table and headed back to their dormitories. The freshmen murmured their goodbyes to the pair and went back to eating their breakfast.

Thad noticed how Jeff's plate had at least some pancakes on it today, and Jeff was not surviving on just apple juice for his day. He didn't want a repeat of last Saturday. He wasn't sure if Jeff took the food himself, or if his "buddy" Nick had been the one who heaped the pancakes onto Jeff's plate. But still, it was some sort of improvement. At least Jeff was improving on his diet.

Turning his attention away from Jeff (not that he noticed Jeff particularly. He was just concerned. Thad wasn't into guys. Nope. He was straight, straight as a ruler. He liked to clarify that just because when you were in a school like Dalton, everyone assumes you're gay and it's absolutely not the case! Sure, they had a lot of gay couples, and Thad had nothing against Jeff, and Jeff was pretty attractive in his opinion, but he wasn't gay. He was straight. Straight-)

Shaking his head to shake away the thoughts in his head (He hated when he had mini ranting sessions in his head, which happened quite often actually.), he turned towards the group, clearing his throat loudly and beckoning for them to gather closer. The freshmen obeyed, which made him grin a little, before he turned his serious face on again and told them that he was going to cancel their meeting this afternoon.

There were varied responses. Some were surprised, and were confused as to exactly why would Wes cancel their meeting. Some were disappointed because they were hoping to use that day's session to confess about their problems. None were too pleased, even though it meant that their Saturday afternoon was freed. Because it had become routine for them to go the choir room every Saturday, and it was kind of nice to have this sort of gathering. It at least gave them something to look forward to all week.

"Wait, hang on, that's not all..." Thad said, studying their responses with mild amusement. "So I was thinking instead of having our meeting, we would all go out to support David."

"Support David for what exactly?" Sebastian asked, cocking an eyebrow in confusion.

Thad let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. He didn't know if David would even mind if the freshmen knew about this, but Thad had to take the chance. Plus, David was a really cool guy, and it was such a great gesture if the whole Group could be there to support David.

"Two years ago, David's girlfriend, Amy, took her own life," Thad said. The table went quiet, and all of their faces turned grave. "Today he and Wes will be at the cemetery… to remember her. David, he," Thad stopped, eyebrows knitted in concentration, "he really loved her, and he was completely broken when Wes and I first met him. He really took it hard and he really blames himself for it. He might seem like the cheeriest among the three of us, but he's hurting badly inside too." He ended with a sigh.

The freshmen looked at each other, and all nodded and murmured their agreement. It was nice to do something for David, and they thought it was appropriate to go and give David their support. After all, David had been taking care of them for the past 3 weeks, and it was now _their _turn to give him support.

* * *

><p>His heart was beating loudly in his chest for no apparent reason. Okay, that was a lie, because David knew why. He had forced himself away from Amy's headstone for a whole year, and now he was going to visit her. He missed her. Of course he did. She had been the girl he was planning to spend his whole life with after high school. She was <em>the one,<em>the one relationship he knew would last, the one he was going to share his whole life with.

But then she committed suicide, and left too early. David bit his lip as he and Wes slowly approached the headstone, Wes keeping a respectful distance so as to give David some personal space. David stopped in front of the headstone, and let out a shaky breath, tears already threatening to spill, and knelt down in front of it, his fingers tracing out the name of the girl he loved.

_Amy Delilah Emerson._

He must have zoned out just staring at her name for a whole 20 minutes, when Wes cleared his throat and stepped forward, placing a bouquet of flowers beside Amy's grave. That was when David finally succumbed to the tears and just completely broke down. He cursed under his breath. He had told himself to be strong. That he wasn't going to break like the last time. A year ago, he had gone completely mad and went out drinking (he had no idea how he had gotten the fake ID), and nearly got hit by a car while attempting to walk all the way back to Dalton. Luckily it wasn't anything serious and Wes had found him before he attempted to do anything else stupid.

He sat down on the ground, burying his head into his knees, his fingers still lingering on the name imprint. His other hand fell to the earth and he gripped onto the grass underneath his fingers, like it would bring him close to Amy in some way. He wasn't even thinking clearly anymore. He knew that all he wanted was for Amy to be by his side again, living and breathing.

Wes took a hesitant step forward, kneeling down behind David, and rested a hand on David's shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "Just let it all out, David. Just let it all out."

David's whole body shook as he sobbed, probably dampening his blazer and his pants, but he didn't care. It was too much emotion all at once, and he didn't know how to react, other than just cry even more.

Wes saw some disturbance from the corner of his eyes and lifted his head up, scanning the area in front of him, and spotted a group of boys keeping their distance from the pair. Wes immediately recognized them as the Group, and saw that Thad was standing in the front, looking supposedly like the one who led them there. Thad gave Wes an awkward and somewhat guilty wave. Wes sighed quietly and nodded.

* * *

><p>"Who's stepping on my foot?"<p>

"Cough, cough, I bet it's Thomas."

"Hey!"

"Hey!"

"What?"

"Geez, who's pushing me?"

"Jeff, stop poking me."

"Guys, keep quiet, it's supposed to be a surprise!"

"Yeah, geez, we're waking up the whole hall already."

"Trent! Shh."

"Okay! Fine!"

"Ready guys?"

"Yeah Blainers."

"1, 2- wait, don't call me 'Blainers' please."

"Sorry, thought it was funny."

"Connor! Blaine!"

"Okay okay!"

"1, 2, 3."

_You're not alone, together we stand_

_I'll be by your side, you know I'll take your hand_

_When it gets cold and it feels like the end_

_There's no place to go, you know I won't give in_

_No, I won't give in_

Blaine and Jeff started off the first verse together, as the rest of the freshmen stood behind them, singing along, not even trying to harmonise. But still, they sounded _good_, and they were all on key.

It had been Sebastian's idea. They didn't approach David at the cemetery, because they felt like they were intruding on a private moment. So they kept their distance, and watched David and Wes for a whole half hour, then decided to head back to Dalton.

"There has got to be another way to show our support for David," Blaine said, eyebrows creased together in thought. He badly wanted to do something for David to lift his spirits up, and looking at the other freshmen behind him as Thad and him led everyone back to Dalton, they looked like they wanted to do the same.

"Well, I have an idea, but I'm not sure if you'll be up for it," Sebastian said as he jogged alongside Blaine, a mischievous grin on his face.

Blaine raised an eyebrow. "Do tell."

"We could sing something for him," Sebastian suggested. He leaned towards Blaine and whispered, "I heard you singing to Jeff last Saturday night. Your door wasn't closed properly." He ignored the surprised look on Blaine's face before continuing. "You have a great voice. It's quite hot actually. Maybe you could lead us into singing a song for David. I think it'll cheer him up."

Blaine blushed at Sebastian's obvious flirting, biting his lip and turning to Thad for approval. Thad nodded. It seemed like quite a cool idea anyway. "No offense, but can you guys even sing though?" he asked.

"We'll never know if we never try," Sebastian stated with a smirk as they walked into the gates of Dalton.

_Keep holding on_

_'Cause you know we'll make it through, we'll make it through_

_Just stay strong_

_'Cause you know I'm here for you, I'm here for you_

_There's nothing you could say, nothing you could do_

_There's no other way when it comes to the truth_

_So keep holding on_

_'Cause you know we'll make it through, we'll make it through_

Blaine grinned at his fellow freshmen as they completed the first chorus. They actually sounded really good, and they were pleased about that, evident by the grins on their faces. The door to David's room was still closed, but Wes had confirmed that David was in fact, in the room, so that meant that David was probably on the other side, listening to them sing. Even though David didn't open the door, Blaine hoped that it would cheer him up, to let David know that they were all there for him no matter what.

He took a step to the back as Connor (the guys had vocal training because of his superstar parents. They'd be stupid if they didn't give him a solo part) stepped to take his place in the front to sing the next verse.

_So far away, I wish you were here_

_Before it's too late this could all disappear_

_Before the door's closed and it comes to an end_

_With you by my side I will fight and defend_

_I'll fight and defend, yeah, yeah_

_Keep holding on_

_'Cause you know we'll make it through, we'll make it through_

_Just stay strong_

_'Cause you know I'm here for you, I'm here for you_

_There's nothing you could say, nothing you could do_

_There's no other way when it comes to the truth_

_So keep holding on_

_'Cause you know we'll make it through, we'll make it through_

Blaine and Jeff stepped forward on the last line, preparing themselves for the bridge. Blaine clapped Jeff's shoulder, and turned to grin at Connor, before the three of them all took deep breaths and sang their hearts out.

_Hear me when I say when I say, I believe_

_Nothing's gonna change, nothing's gonna change destiny_

_Whatever's meant to be will work out perfectly_

_Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah_

_Keep holding on_

_'Cause you know we'll make it through, we'll make it through_

_Just stay strong_

_'Cause you know I'm here for you, I'm here for you_

_There's nothing you could say, nothing you could do_

_There's no other way when it comes to the truth_

_So keep holding on_

_'Cause you know we'll make it through, we'll make it through_

_Keep holding on_

_Keep holding on_

_There's nothing you could say, nothing you could do_

_There's no other way when it comes to the truth_

_So keep holding on_

_'Cause you know we'll make it through, we'll make it through_

Blaine ended the song on a perfect, on-key note. He took a deep breath and laughed, turning back to face all his friends, as they all said their 'goodnights' and went off to their dormitory rooms, just in time for curfew.

* * *

><p>It was quite a while after the boys had left that David opened the door of his room and went out of the room, pulling up his grey hoodie. The hallways of the dormitory hall were empty of course, because it was nearing 1am in the morning, and that meant curfew was already in place. David wouldn't usually mess with the rules like this, but he figured no one would actually bother checking the hallways. It was a Saturday night after all.<p>

He could have been watching a movie or reading a book to quell his temporary insomnia, but he liked taking walks. And anyway, his eyes were already tired and sore from too much crying that day. David had cried his heart out at the cemetery, and the little performance the freshmen set up for him when he got back made him cry a little harder. Except the latter time, he was crying tears of gratitude. He had no idea how they had found out, but he was so very grateful and so very thankful. It was a really nice gesture, and it really touched him. After all the events of that day, he figured some fresh air and a nice walk around the campus would help clear his head and get his head back for at least the rest of the week.

He took a deep breath as he stepped just outside the building, his feet landing soundlessly on the grass. He tilted his head upwards, and was thankful it wasn't a rainy night. The sky was clear and there were many glittering stars in the sky. Not many, but still, quite a few. He walked aimlessly forwards, his eyes focused on the sky, taking another deep breath. He lowered his head and squinted when he spotted a figure lying on the grass patch not far from him. His eyes opened wide in alarm and he quickened his pace, slowing down when he realized it was just Andrew enjoying the night sky. With a small smile on his face, he made his way over to the other boy and sat down next to him, barely startling Andrew.

Andrew turned his head and stared at David, grinning at him before turning his head back up at the stars. "Why are you out this late?" he asked, tracing out another constellation lazily with his finger.

"Couldn't sleep," David replied shrugging.

"Yeah? Me too," Andrew said, trying to keep out the edge in his voice.

There was silence for a moment, before David piped up again. "Do you come out often at night to look at the stars? You seem very comfortable, like it's something you do often…" he said, voice trailing off when he saw the freshman nod his head in affirmation.

"Yeah, I do. Whenever I can't sleep, I go out and look at the stars… which is often. They comfort me."

David nodded, staring back up at the sky.

"Do you know some people believe that people who pass turn into a star?"

David turned his head back at Andrew, who had dropped his hand to place it behind his head, his eyes still focusing on the stars ahead. "R-really?" David mumbled, looking up at the stars again. _Which one was Amy then?_

As if reading his thoughts, Andrew raised his hand, pointing towards a lone star that shined particularly bright amongst the rest. "There, that one. That one is Amy."

David swallowed a lump in his throat and nodded. "Yeah, she's beautiful." He blinked back the tears that were threatening to spill, and instead, on his face etched a hint of a smile. He stared intently at the star, as if trying to memorise it, trying to remember it.

"You see over there? That bright star and the little one next to it? That's my mom and my brother," Andrew said with a dreamy tone, his eyes flickering over to the two stars, his finger now pointing towards them. That was why Andrew loved the stars so much. Because the stars not only reminded him of the times he shared with his mother, but also-

_"Andrew, Andrew! What's that star?"_

_Andrew chuckled, hugging his brother tighter to him and lying back on the grass. "That's not a star. It's Jupiter, silly. It doesn't look like the other stars," he explained as he laid his brother next to him on the grass._

_"Oh…" the three year old mused, giggling quietly. "It's special though."_

_"You're special, Joseph. You're a very special star."_

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><p><strong>AN: Not gonna lie, writing the Andrew parts killed me inside a little.**

**Reviews are much appreciated! 3**


	5. Chapter 5 : Sugar, We're Going Down

**A/N: Gah, I hate it when things don't go as planned. And by plans I mean that this chapter was supposed to be done earlier. Gah.**

**Warnings: Triggers ahead. Mentions of molestation.**

**I don't own anything except my OCs. In response to one review, no, this isn't a fic based on Mama CP's Dalton, though I love her boys a lot. I've changed the fic summary to make things clearer.**

**Here's to hopefully another enjoyable chapter. Have fun reading and enjoy.**

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><p>"Dudes, you two need to lay off on all the coffee."<p>

Andrew and Nick both looked up, both with prominent dark circles around their eyes, although Andrew always looked tired anyway. They raised an eyebrow at Sebastian and continued to drink their coffees, both at their second cup that morning.

"Can't, gotta study and cram everything into my brain," Nick said shrugging. If he wanted to stay in this school to be far far away from his father, he needed to get the Top Scorer scholarship at the end of the year. School fees for Dalton were pricey and he didn't want to put a burden on his mother's finances, since it was pretty obvious to him that his father would not chip in a cent for his education here.

Andrew nodded, half agreeing with Nick. The next week was the all feared "Cram Week", which meant a week of intense studying to prepare them for their diagnostic tests. The whole idea was rather absurd, testing the students after barely a month into the semester, but it would determine if students could keep up and if they needed to be transferred into special classes differentiated by learning speed. Dalton had a strict curriculum system that, in the long run, would benefit the boys, but still was a pain to go through.

The other half of Andrew needed the coffee… just to get through the day.

But they didn't know that. None of them knew that.

Everyone else at the table either groaned because they had been trying to avoid touching their books or they were panicking because they hadn't started and they didn't understand why Nick and Andrew would torture themselves like that.

"Ahh, boys, may I suggest a shot of liquor in your coffee? I always have my coffee like that. Mm, good stuff," Sebastian said, leaning back in his chair. Everyone blinked at him mostly in bewilderment. Then again, it was _Sebastian_. Sebastian Tellings was a lavish guy. This was the guy who owned a gold watch and went out of school to golf on Sundays, so it wasn't so surprising after all.

"How much sleep are you guys surviving on anyway?" Thomas asked as he pushed his glasses up and took another scoop of his yoghurt.

"Maybe 3?" Nick answered, shrugging. Jeff looked over at him over the table and shook his head reproachfully. Andrew chuckled and took another sip of his coffee.

He jumped when he felt someone quietly slide into the seat next to him. "Hey everyone," Thad said, a grin on his face.

The freshmen all greeted him with murmurs of "hello" and waves. "Hey Thaddy, what's up?" Connor asked, a smirk on his face.

"Connor, your nickname habit is getting really annoying."

"Didn't know you were jealous, Trent-chcoat. You could've just asked me what your nickname was. Your name is incredibly difficult to make a nickname out of you know?"

Thad coughed. "Anyway," he said, rolling his eyes at Connor before continuing. "I need help from you guys again."

The freshmen all perked up immediately, their eyes bright as they all leaned slightly forwards to hear what it was that Thad needed them to do. The previous week they had a lot of fun while preparing and performing that song especially for David. "Well, go on," Jeff said, grinning, his eyes flickering over the equal grins and thoughtful looks of the other freshmen before turning his attention back to Thad.

"Well, Wes' birthday is on Monday, and knowing Wesley, he probably would be too busy studying for Cram Week. I mean, he's already one of the best students in our level but he fusses over every single detail. It's annoying studying with him, honestly. Anyway," Thad said, clearing his throat, embarrassed for going off tangent again, "I think he's going to be super stressed out for these exams, like he does with every exam anyway, and he probably will forget his birthday. Or throw us out of his room if we try celebrating it during next week since knowing Wesley, he'll probably fill his entire schedule for the week with studying, books, papers, reading, et cetera, et cetera. And he'd probably throw a fit it we interrupted that. His fits of rage are quite funny actually- but you guys get my point." He coughed again noticing that he was ranting yet again. _Geez, I really need to stop thinking so much and giving out too much details and having all these weird arguments in my head, no wonder everyone thinks I'm strange, and Mr Kinnedey wants me to try out for the debate club or something. But Debate is not something I'm good in, and crap, I'm ranting to myself again. Oh god, this has to stop-_

"Shall we bake him a cake then?" Thomas piped up. All eyes turned towards the small bespectacled boy, mostly with amused grins. Connor grinned at the alarmed expression on Thomas' face, who was looking like he wanted to take his words back immediately. "I actually think that's a rather cool idea. We have the whole afternoon to kill till time for the meeting anyway," Connor said, shrugging, running a hand carelessly through his blond hair.

Thomas gave him a "really?" expression and blinked in surprise, turning his attention over to the others to see if they were up for it or not. They were, apparently, because everyone started to nod their heads or voice their approval. Thad just sat back and watched them plan, deciding that he would help out too.

"Sure, baking sounds fun actually. Except, do any of us _actually _know how to bake?" Trent asked. Everyone shook their heads worriedly. "Well, that's a problem then," he added after seeing their reactions, sighing.

"There's always Google," Connor joked, shrugging. The others laughed at that.

But they still decided to rely on Google for a recipe anyway.

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><p>The supermarket was huge. There seemed to be countless shelves and aisles, and it was all messy and not at all organized or side by side in neat rows, so shopping for ingredients for Wes' birthday cake was like navigating through a maze. A maze of food.<p>

A whole half hour in the supermarket (they had spent a whole 20 minutes in two cars trying to figure out the best way to get to the supermarket, which made a very frustrated Thad step in to actually make a decision and not waste time in the Dalton parking lot trying to figure out if taking the short roads was better or driving through the roundabout was faster. Then Nick had to stop the car he was driving to go pee, and Connor in the other car had to stop for gas and spent forever flirting with the pretty lady behind the register at the gas station.

Then after all that madness and interruptions in the morning, they decided they were all hungry and stopped for a quick lunch. So that took up some time too.

But they made it to the supermarket anyway, and they all decided to split into groups to find the ingredients, because they really wanted to get back to Dalton early. (They had found a recipe online for a cake they all managed to agree on. It was a simple chocolate cake with white chocolate icing. Yum.) None of them were exactly sure how long they would actually need to make and bake the cake.

Thomas and Connor were assigned to find the sugar and flour and get back to Counter 12, which was their meeting place, in 10 minutes. They found the shelves holding the sugar and flour packets at the back of the supermarket, after winding their way through the aisle holding cereals, and the baskets of fruit. Connor grinned upon seeing the packets of sugar and walked over, picking up the first packet of white sugar he could see and weighing it in his hand, then playing with it by throwing the packet from one hand to another.

"So do we get the brown sugar or the normal white sugar?" he asked as he noticed the bottom shelf holding the brown sugar packets.

Thomas blinked and shrugged. "I say we just get the white sugar? I don't know maybe I should go check with Blaine. After all, he_ is_ the one with the actual recipe."

Connor nodded at the brunette and turned his attention back to the sugar packets, placing back the packet of sugar in his hands and taking a few steps to his left so as to get to the flour packets. He hummed a little tune under his breath, fingers dancing over the price labels on the shelves, contemplating which one was most cost efficient. After all, even though he _was_ rich, it didn't necessarily mean that everyone else was the same.

He turned his head sharply at the sound of a little gasp of fright. He frowned in confusion when he saw his little brunette roommate walk briskly towards him. Thomas had glassy eyes, like he was going to burst into tears soon, and basically cowered behind the taller blond. Connor looked around, alarmed, but didn't exactly see anything wrong, except for a few other shoppers near them.

He turned slowly to face Thomas. "Hey, what's wrong?" he asked quietly, forehead creased in worry and confusion. He had no idea why Thomas was suddenly so afraid, and had no idea _what_ exactly he was afraid of. No response. He grabbed Thomas' arm and shook him, as if to wake the brunette from the daze he was in. He let go immediately, muttering an apology after remembering that Thomas didn't like being touched.

Thomas shook his head and gained his composure, though he still looked pale and sickly like as if he was going to start crying. Connor didn't like seeing Thomas like that. "I-I-I saw… I'll explain it to you when we get back okay? Let's just hurry out of this place," Thomas barely squeaked out, avoiding Connor's gaze as he grabbed a packet of white sugar and walked with quick steps towards the meeting place. The blond simply followed behind his roommate, scratching his head in even more confusion, his other hand holding tightly to the packet of flour.

"Thomas? Are you okay?" Blaine immediately asked upon seeing the pair, his gaze flickering from Thomas' pale expression and shifty eyes, momentarily to Connor then quickly back onto Thomas again. "What happened? Why do you look so traumatized? Did someone hurt you guys?"

The rest of the group who were already waiting at Counter 12 slowly noticed Thomas' nervousness too and shot looks of concern, most looking to Connor for some sort of explanation, but not getting any.

Thad could sense Thomas' reluctance to talk, so he steered Blaine and the rest of the freshmen away from Thomas and ordered them to pay for the items, taking the packets of flour and sugar from Thomas and Connor and passing them over to the rest. He patted Thomas' shoulder and gave him a small smile.

"You don't have to tell us about it here if you want to. Why don't you and Connor go back to the car first?" he suggested quietly, biting his lip in worry as he watched the pair exit the automatic doors of the supermarket into the parking lot. He didn't expect the trip to the supermarket to have turned out like this. He had thought nothing would happen and they would just return to Dalton happily and bake the cake for Wes. But something obviously did, and Thad decided he would try to figure it out and help Thomas. Somehow.

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><p>Blaine looked down at the ingredients placed on the kitchen counter top that they managed to gather from their grocery shopping trip. Studying the ingredient list again and mentally checking off all the items on the list, his expression softened and his face broke into a grin. "Yeah, we definitely have all the ingredients. Let's start baking!"<p>

Thad had kindly helped them to ask the kitchen mistress, Ms Evans, whether they could borrow the kitchen. At first he was not very successful because the intense and judging gaze from Ms Evans made him feel slightly uncomfortable and nervous. Then Sebastian stepped in and charmed the elderly lady, and thus here they were, huddling behind Blaine, all curious on how exactly to go about doing this.

"Er, you three mix these," Blaine said, passing a bowl of ingredients to Jeff, Nick and Thad. "Four of you measure these." He looked at Trent, Sebastian, Connor and Thomas while pointing to another set of ingredients. "And Andrew and I will start on the icing. As long as we follow this recipe we should be fine right?" he asked no one in particular.

So they all went about their assigned roles, and with some difficulty and rereading of the recipe, they managed to prepare the batter for the cake and popped it into the oven.

Then Jeff dropped the opened packet of flour.

There was temporary chaos as the sudden cloud of flour appeared around Jeff and some of the other freshmen who were unfortunately standing nearby. Nick coughed and tried to wave the flour away, and the rest did the same, though he swore he heard Jeff giggle at his mistake. When the cloud settled and they could all see rather clearly again, Thad groaned audibly, wiping off whatever flour on his jacket in vain. Luckily none of them had worn their actual uniforms and had worn aprons over home clothing, but Thad regretted wearing his favorite jacket. Jeff continued to giggle immaturely, reaching out his hand to wipe off a spot of flour on Nick's nose. Nick swatted his hand away and grinned, grabbing a handful of flour and tossing it at Jeff, who ducked, so it went straight to the back of Blaine's head.

Blaine whipped his head around to look for the source of the flour throwing, eyebrows furrowed but an amused smile on his face. Sebastian caught his expression and yelled, "Food fight!"

Then the fiasco began.

There was flour throwing, batter smearing, sugar spraying, water sprinkling… just any sort of substance they could find on the kitchen countertops that they absolutely did not need anymore, they simply just threw that in some random direction. It was a small kitchen and there were 9 of them. Of course whatever they threw would hit someone.

Thomas, who had been quiet and somber ever since their trip to the supermarket, actually laughed and joined in after Connor tickled him, and nudged him to play along. Andrew put on an impressive fight, but after Nick and Jeff joined forces to "provoke" Andrew, did Andrew get into the fray. Thad was hardly amused since all the flour and sugar being tossed around dirtied his clothing, and he didn't liked that at all. (It was his favorite jacket okay?) But after he had shrugged it off, folded it neatly, and placed it safely outside the kitchen door, he went back into the kitchen and took "revenge" for his beloved article of clothing.

It was the most fun most of them had that week. All thoughts about the impending Cram Week were gone out the window, and all they were thinking about was tossing and avoiding flour and just making a mess out of everything. It was heartening to see how far they'd come really. Just a simple 1 month together, and they had all grown so close to each other. They were a group of _friends_. Actual friends that dared to depend on each other.

The journey hadn't been easy of course. The whole Trent/Jeff fiasco, and the Connor/Thomas misunderstanding. But now, Jeff was tackling Trent, not in rough way, but in the playful way and sprinkling flour on his head, while Trent laughed and tried to run away from Nick as well who was helping out his best friend. Connor and Thomas had become somewhat best friends, although both would vehemently deny it if you ever asked them if they were best friends. (Thomas felt shy about it, and Connor didn't believe in the term 'best friends')

Luckily Blaine heard the timer on the oven go 'ding!' and he laughed. "Okay guys, the cake's done, let's stop already," he shouted over the noise, and the laughter slowly died down as they crowded around the oven, just like little kids would do. Only a few of them, like Sebastian and Thad, hung back and grinned at the overcrowding of freshmen around the oven.

"Did you guys miss a huge part of your childhood or what?" Thad said quietly, quiet enough so that only Sebastian could hear him. Sebastian just chuckled and watched Blaine bend down and pull the cake out of the oven, setting it on the cooling tray on the kitchen counter top. He looked at the reactions of the rest of his friends, and grinned when he saw their smiles.

Connor must've heard Thad's words, because he turned back slightly to look at Thad, his expression suddenly darkening, but true to his acting roots, he put a tight bright smile on his face and quickly turned his head back to stare quite intensely at the cake, hoping no one caught his reaction. Connor had never baked with his mother before. Or did any sort of baking for that matter. His parents didn't believe that he should undergo any manual labor, so he never got the chance to do a lot of things. Like help shovel snow off the driveways in winter. Or carry books home from school. Or water the plants in the little garden boxes in the windowsills. Andrew, being his observant self, _did_ catch Connor's moment of vulnerability, and he was about to nudge Connor and ask him if he was okay, but just then, Blaine spoke up.

"Let's put the icing on the cake! Andrew, you have the best cursive handwriting, you write Wes' name," Blaine said, passing Andrew the icing stick, while Nick began to carefully cover the side of the cake with some icing as well. They were done pretty quickly, and still had about an hour to spare before the meeting so they decided to go to the meeting room in advance and decorate the room for Wes' mini pre-birthday birthday party.

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><p>Wes mumbled under his breath as he headed towards the choir room. He already knew Thad was in there, because Mr Davies had told him that Thad had asked for the keys earlier. David had mysteriously disappeared when Wes had returned to their shared dorm room, ready to complain about how Thad did not inform him ahead that he would be taking the key, and had thus resulted in a wasted trip to the counselor's office.<p>

He could've used the extra time to study! Even a mere 15 minutes was better used on books then used on wandering from one end of Dalton to the other end of the campus just for the key. He continued to recite mathematical laws under his breath as he walked towards the end of the hallway, where the choir room was.

He thought he heard a noise when he neared the choir room doors, so he spoke up loudly, calling Thad's name. "Thad? Thaddeus? The next time you help retrieve the choir room key, could you kindly tell-" He pushed open the doors and was interrupted by a array of loud noises, caused by the rest of the people in the Group shouting various things (including "surprise!" or "Wes!" or "Happy Birthday!" or in Sebastian's case, "Cake!") and party poppers going off. Wes' irate expression softened and brightened, a wide grin spread on his face.

"_You're welcome_," Thad said smirking as he walked towards Wes and pulled him forward by the sleeve. "We just really wanted to thank you for maintaining, or trying to anyway, order during our Meetings. And for always being so patient."

"And most importantly, for being such a great brother figure for all of us," Blaine piped up from behind Thad.

Wes nodded and grinned. "Thanks so much, guys," he said, feeling tears of joy welling up in his eyes. No one had ever done something so sweet and nice to him. This surprise party, along with the little performance they put up for David the week before, were all such wonderful gestures.

"Big hug for Wes! Happy birthday buddy!" David yelled, grinning and pulling his two best friends into a hug, using one hand to beckon the freshmen to join into the hug also.

Thomas stood at the sidelines and just smiled at the big huddling group, biting his lip because he looked so out of place and awkward at that moment. Connor noticed this and understood, pulling away from the group hug and standing next to Thomas, patting the brunette on the shoulder. Thomas just looked up at Connor and smiled, suddenly very thankful that Connor was so patient and understanding. He had misunderstood Connor at the very start. He had thought Connor was a spoilt brat, who was stuck-up and selfish. But after really getting to know Connor, after spending everyday with him for a whole month, Thomas truly saw past Connor's superstar façade, and saw the real side of Connor; the caring, thoughtful, protective side of Connor. Thomas just wished Connor would show that side more often though, because so far, he had only ever acted that way around him.

Wes looked up and saw the pair standing at the side awkwardly and called them over, unaware of Thomas' situation. "Hey, come on guys, join in the big hug!"

Thomas shook his head and bit his lip, not wanting to be rude, but still not wanting to let himself be hugged, smothered by bodies…. He took tentative steps, his heart racing and color draining from his face. Connor took one sideways look and cleared his throat, gently tugging Thomas backwards by the sleeve, shaking his head. He thought that Thomas shouldn't be forced to do this if he didn't feel comfortable because of his haphephobia problem.

The group all pulled away from the hug. Thad looked at the pair in confusion, at Thomas in particular for the brunette was now blushing a deep shade of red. "What's wrong, Thomas?" he asked, concerned.

Thomas' blue eyes flickered from Thad, to Wes, to over the rest of the Group, lastly landing on Connor's comforting brown ones. Connor gave him a reassuring smile and a little nudge. _This is the moment. The moment where I tell everyone where I'm flawed._

"Today.. at the supermarket… you guys could tell I was completely out of it right?" Thomas began, his eyes looking nervously over everyone, hands shaking from nervousness. Wes gave him an encouraging nod even though he had no idea what had happened at the supermarket, urging him to continue speaking. "Well, uh, 3 years ago," he said, swallowing the lump in his throat that was already starting to form, "at my old school, I-I-I was molested. By my PE teacher," he said, a tear slowly running down his cheek as flashbacks of that day came back to him. "And ever since then, I've been closing myself off to everyone who wanted to come into any sort of affectionate physical contact with me… I trusted hi-m," he said, voice breaking at the last word, "he was the 'coolest' PE teacher, and everyone loved him,"

He bit back a bitter laugh. "The doctors call it haphephobia. Medical definition being 'morbid fear of being touched'. I literally cannot come into any sort of close physical contact like hugs or cuddling or anything. Minimal contact is fine, but anything too intimate makes my skin crawl and makes me really uncomfortable. I can't help it. It's just… every time someone gets too close to me, I remember. And when I remember, I get scared. I get afraid that my nightmare will come again." He didn't even bother brushing his tears, letting them fall. The tears clouded his vision, so he couldn't see the looks on his friends' faces and how they were reacting to it. He bit his lip again, so hard that it started bleeding. Why was he such a freak? He never wanted this, but here he was, and he was so weak, and his heart, brain and body's natural reactions to affection were just not right. He mentally berated himself and cursed his fate, cursed that he was ever so gullible to let himself be treated like that.

"Today at the supermarket, I saw his wife… and I... I just didn't know how to react. My words sent her husband to prison. She hates me, she thinks I'm telling lies, but.." his voice trailed off, not knowing how to continue anymore.

The rest of the Group mainly just stared on in shock, unsure how to react. Here Thomas was, one of the sweetest and kindest members of their little group, and the fact that he had to endure such cruel treatment and an unfortunate experience that scarred him for life- it wasn't fair. It wasn't fair on innocent Thomas at all.

Hearing his story, Jeff was sure he was tearing up too. He probably would never ever understand how Thomas was going through, but hearing his experience made his own heart ache. He looked over at Thomas, breaking down, with messy tears on his face, and wanted to go over there and comfort him somehow, but didn't know how at all. Connor was looking sad as well, but with a sympathetic look in his eyes.

"I'm so sorry for messing up your birthday celebration Wes… I truly am," Thomas said, voice barely above a whisper, but the room was already so quiet, so his words were audible.

There was silence for a while, then Nick and Jeff both stepped forward, arms around each other's shoulders. Jeff walked over to Connor with Nick, and wrapped his other arm over Connor's shoulder. Slowly, the rest of the group began to do the same thing, wrapping their arms over each other's shoulders, so that in the end, they formed a circle around Thomas, but none of them actually touching Thomas.

"I guess this is the closest to a group hug we can give you."

Thomas gaped at his friends' staring at all of their smiling faces in shock, then his expression softened and he buried his face in his hands, body shaking with his sobbing. "Thank you guys so much. T-thank you."

Nick looked over at Jeff, then Sebastian, and around the circle, then back at Thomas. "That's what friends are for aren't they?" he said, smiling. The others laughed and nodded in unison.

Thomas lifted his face from his hands and smiled back at all of them, still blushing from all the attention.

"Shall we move onto the cake then?" Sebastian asked, grinning.

"To cake!"

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><p><strong>AN: MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE 3 I love all of you, and I wish you a happy new year in advance! The next chapter might take a while because I still have a lot of planning to do. Sorry in advance!**

**Also, if anyone wants my tumblr just to talk or anything, here it is: (uptown-warblerette). Just say hi! I love talking to people.**

**Reviews are much appreciated! 3**


	6. Chapter 6 : Be OK

**A/N: ****I'm going to change the format for this fic… I realized that writing the name at the top and stuff is really redundant. I'll be making the minor formatting changes in the previous chapters as well.**

**Once again, I must apologise for my delay in updating this fiction. With Christmas and New Years and school, life gets pretty tough.**

**Warnings: (Possible) triggers ahead. **

**I don't own anything except my OCs. I wish though, cause I really want a Warblers spin off. **

**Have fun reading and enjoy.**

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><p>"Oi! Order! Order everyone!" Wes shouted, banging his fist on the table as he looked around at the freshmen in the room who were all either busy in conversation or having their attention on texts and notes instead of on Wes. Who could blame them, really? Exams were still ongoing, and as much as they enjoyed their weekly Saturday meetups, they had grades to keep up and teachers and parents to appease.<p>

"Someone needs to get the guy a gavel or something before he hurts himself," Sebastian muttered to no one in particular, smoothening his tie in a bored manner. Connor, who sat next to him, snorted in appreciation and turned his attention away from his Calculus textbook to look at Wes.

Wes cleared his throat, glaring at the last two boys who were still chattering in the corner ("Sorry Wes, Trent was insulting my shoes!") before straightening himself and folding his arms on the table.

"Today is a very special day guys. Because today, you will meet with Mr Davies, our school's _official_," Wes said in a calm tone, putting emphasis on the word 'official', "guidance counselor. I'm sure he'll be more experienced than us in tackling the-" his introduction was interrupted by a lone hand raised in the air. Turning his head in annoyance, he glared at Connor. "Yes, Walken?"

"You expect us to open up and pour our troubles to an adult who not only works for the school, but can easily leak out information to the teachers and tell everyone about how messed up I am?" he said bluntly, cocking an eyebrow, hands folded against his chest. He hadn't even opened up to the rest of the freshmen. There was no way he'd be even more comfortable with an adult around, especially since the main adults in his life were doing such a terrible job in taking care of him.

Wes gaped at Connor for a moment but regained his composure, nodding slowly. "Mr Davies is not that bad, I'm sure he won't compromise our privacy and leak out information. He's trustworthy and reliable. He wouldn't break protocol. Anyways, won't your parents just sue him if he did?"

Thad and David shared a quick look, Thad turning to speak to Connor. "Mr Davies is a cool teacher, don't worry. He won't compromise our privacy in any way. Plus, this whole operation is not even approved by the school board."

There was a moment of silence, before the whole room erupted. "_What?_"

Thad blanched and he ducked his head, suddenly finding the glossy wooden table in front of him very interesting. David and Wes frantically tried to calm everyone down.

"Thad, what do you mean, this is not an official school approved operation?" Nick asked, mouth opening in surprise.

"It means," David said, lifting his right hand from the table to rub his temples, "that while this is Mr Davies' idea, mind you; We can't leak out that we're meeting here… cause this thing is actually_ illegally_ carried out; without the Board's consent." He cringed at his own word choice, but it was too late to take it back as the room erupted again.

While most of them were shocked and very taken aback by this news, others were actually smirking and high fiving each other about it. Because, for one, the Group gave them something to _belong _to. And they were thankful for that. Though most would have admitted that if they had known from the start that it was not compulsory to attend these meetings every week, they probably wouldn't. But now that they were so knee deep into this operation, they might as well see the whole thing through right? Plus, it was kinda fun to rebel behind the back of their conformist prep school.

"We should come up with some cool code word for our group!" Jeff said, clapping excitedly like a 5 year old. Nick laughed and nodded, nudging Jeff playfully. "We'd be like a mafia or something! That's really cool guys!"

Wes shook his head as the freshmen began to discuss possible names to call their Group. It had become tiring to call their little gathering 'the Group', as the name didn't seem special or significant enough.

"Well, what about-"

Right as Wes wanted to propose an idea for the naming of their group, the wooden doors burst open (eliciting a squeak from Thomas who sat nearest to it, and in bounced a quirky looking old man of not more than 50 years old. He had fashioned on a pair of half moon glasses, a pink and orange polka-dotted bowtie over a simple white shirt with brown suspenders. Trent winced at the man's lack of fashion taste, while the others just looked on in amusement.

"Hello everyone! I am Mr Davies," the old man said, his eyes twinkling as he scanned the room, glancing over all of the boys. Wes walked from behind the desk to stand next to Mr Davies, and turned to the freshman to continue with the introduction, but Mr Davies patted Wes hard on the back twice and spoke instead. "I'm sure Wesley over here has already jabbered enough about me. He tends to take things way too seriously, if you haven't noticed." He spoke the last sentence in a mock stage whisper to Thomas who was standing on the other side of him, trying to hold back his giggles. The freshmen looked at each other with grins on their faces, which signaled one thing: They_ liked_ Mr Davies. Making fun of Wes like this was amusing them to no end, and it sure made a great first impression on the freshmen.

Wesley held a slight look of terror at the way Mr Davies was describing him to the rest, blushing a faint shade of pink on his face. He cleared his throat, seemingly wanting to speak up, but Mr Davies would not let him. "Tut-tut, Wesley. I'm going to introduce something to your little therapy group," the old man said as he headed to the piano at the side of the choir room and sat down. The other students in the room only looked on in amusement at the interaction between Wes and Mr Davies. No one undermined Wes' automatic "authority" like that,(and for the matter, no one ever called Wes "Wesley", unless they wanted to be glared at and kicked out of the choir room) and it was really entertaining to see Wes get so flustered, stumbling when he tried to speak up. They felt almost _bad_ for the sophomore.

Mr Davies brushed off the accumulated dust on the piano, placing his fingers delicately on the piano keys. The boys slowly gathered around the piano, even the reluctant Wes. "Wesley has told me about how you guys have put up some interesting musical performances, and I thought that it would be appropriate to try music therapy on you." He pressed down on a key, and the piano let out the note. He gave a satisfactory smile, and began to play the introduction of a quite familiar song. "If you guys know the words, just sing along. It could be rather therapeutic. If not, then just listen. Really _listen_."

The freshmen shot each other confused looks, but most of them were eager about what was going to happen. They knew that this was definitely not going to be like any other ordinary session. Not like they were ordinary freshmen either.

_I just want to be ok, be ok, be ok__  
><em>_I just want to be ok today__  
><em>_I just want to be ok, be ok, be ok__  
><em>_I just want to be ok today_

Mr Davies sang the first verse with a surprisingly light and airy voice, which they assumed was just to fit the song. Most of them felt awkward just jumping in, because they had never done impromptu performances like this, but Connor, who was a closet Michaelson fan due to his parents' connections with Ingrid Michaelson, rolled his eyes and jumped in at the next verse, seating himself next to Mr Davies at the piano, back facing the keys. He closed his eyes, and began to sing out the next verse.

_I just want to feel today, feel today, feel today__  
><em>_I just want to feel something today__  
><em>_I just want to feel today, feel today, feel today__  
><em>_I just want to feel something today_

For the boys who honestly did not know the lyrics to the song, they gamely moved their feet to the beat, while some of the more enthusiastic ones, like Jeff and Sebastian, actually dancing along and trying to lip sync as much as they could.

Nick grinned at the pair and quietly sung the lyrics under his breath, turning to look at the other freshmen, and catching Blaine also singing the song, but trying to be discreet about it. Nick didn't know why though, because Blaine had a great voice as evidenced by their previous "performances". He made his way over to Blaine and nudged the other boy and they started to join in at the next verse, harmonizing with Mr Davies and Connor.

_Open me up and you will see__  
><em>_I'm a gallery of broken hearts__  
><em>_I'm beyond repair, let me be__  
><em>_And give me back my broken parts__  
><em>_[ Lyrics from: . ]__  
><em>_I just want to know today, know today, know today__  
><em>_I just want to know something today__  
><em>_I just want to know today, know today, know today__  
><em>_Know that maybe I will be ok_

_Just give me back my pieces__  
><em>_Just give them back to me please__  
><em>_Just give me back my pieces__  
><em>_And let me hold my broken parts_

By the last few verses, everyone in the room had pretty much familiarized themselves with the lyrics, and it was quite a sight seeing 11 boys in unshapely restrictive blue formal blazers, gelled head aplenty, just bursting out into song, circling around an eccentrically dressed man and doing some kind of dance routine.

_I just want to be ok, be ok, be ok__  
><em>_I just want to be ok today__  
><em>_I just want to be ok, be ok, be ok__  
><em>_I just want to be ok today_

_I just want to feel today, feel today, feel today__  
><em>_I just want to feel something today__  
><em>_I just want to know today, know today, know today__  
><em>_Know that maybe I will be ok__  
><em>_Know that maybe I will be ok__  
><em>_Know that maybe I will be ok_

Everyone cheered and clapped by the end of the song, the singers bowing to their "adoring" audience and grinning, patting each other on the back. "Amazing!" Mr Davies complimented all of them as he let the boys catch their breaths from all the dancing, singing and laughing they did for the entire song. "I know the song is rather dreary, but it's quite a quirky message, right? That you want to be okay," he said, giving all of them a kindly grin. "Alright, now that the song has got you all cheery, would anyone want to say anything? At all? Either about sharing your problems or about music therapy?"

Sebastian was the first to raise his hand. "So, are we going to come in and burst into song every Saturday from now on?" he asked, giving a little shrug. It wasn't like he was against the idea, since the song numbers would help the shyer and more reserved members of the Group (dammit, they really needed to find an alternative to the name), it was just that he had trouble understanding what the Group was anymore, after knowing that this was a) not considered a school activity and b) the entire format for their therapy had just changed.

"Well… if you put it that way… yes." Mr Davies said widely, shrugging. The boys murmured to each other and nodded, seemingly okay with the plan. "We'll take it slow, but I think that music helps you to express how you feel the best. There's always a song that you can relate to, any kind of emotion, situation or dilemma can be expressed through song. I'd encourage you to write your own songs, but I think that's getting too far ahead of ourselves. Any other questions?" he asked, glancing and watching the reactions from the boys. No one else raised their hand, and they all settled themselves quietly down on the couches.

As Mr Davies slowly made his way to an empty couch by the side, there came a cough from the other side of the room. Mr Davies settled into the couch quickly and nodded towards the boy who made the noise. Andrew stood up and nodded back, turning to the council of sophomores for their 'okay', before heading to the middle of the room. It was time. He was going to open up about his problem to the Group.

Andrew took a deep shuddering breath, squeezing his eyes shut quickly to calm himself down. He opened his eyes and glanced around the room, his gaze scanning over all the faces of his friends. Soon they were going to learn all about him. Why he needed coffee so much. Why he could be seen roaming around in the school field if they tried to find him at 4am at night. Why he was always so reserved and so drained, like all the energy in him had been sucked out completely. Why he had a reliance on coffee. Why he tended to tune out in class. Why he always seemed to have a delayed reaction. Why he needed extra one on one lessons to catch up with everyone else in schoolwork.

"So over the past few weeks everyone has been... open and honest about who they were and admitting to their 'issues'. And I really look up to all of you for being so brave," Andrew admitted, coughing nervously, fiddling with his tie. His heart was racing abnormally and it was starting to feel strange. He bulked it down to nerves and brushed it aside. Then again, irrational heart paces wasn't an irregular occurrence with the lifestyle he was leading.

_Right, back to telling everyone your deepest darkest fear._

"I s-s-suffer from insomnia. Hypnophobia."

There was silence as everyone just gaped at Andrew. Fear of sleeping? But why? Andrew seemed like one of the sanest ones amongst them and sometimes they had trouble grasping the fact that he was a part of their group because he kept a quiet facade and just seemed normal. Those who were more observant saw everything click into place. They saw how Andrew tended to just stare into blank space during conversations, like he was stuck in a world between the conscious and unconscious. How that one time during break he had a hallucination about seeing two Wes' enter the cafeteria. How he would fall asleep at the most inopportune moments, only to jolt back awake, like someone had taken a live electricity cord and pressed it against him.

"My f-fear of falling asleep – my _insomnia_," he quickly corrected himself, not wanting to seem like too much of a freak he already was, "is caused by… a very unfortunate event in my life. My-my mother… she died in her sleep… And it's just… it didn't use to be this bad. At first it was just nightmares. The worst kind. The kind that left you in tears and jolted you up at 4am in the morning. Those lasted for quite a long time," he said, squeezing his eyes shut as the painful memories came flooding back. His father had chalked them up to be just regular nightmares because Andrew did just go through a traumatic experience. But then the nightmares dragged on, and the nightmares came back to haunt Andrew's subconscious every single night, pulling him out of sleep.

And then he started to think; what if he died in his sleep, just like his mother? What if he fell asleep and never ever woke up? The thought scared him so much and made him actually reconsider not sleeping at all. That was when the gynophobia began. He began to be so obsessed with this idea that if he slept, he was never going to wake up. He would be forever stuck in his nightmare and he just wouldn't wake up.

Andrew continued to worry his lower lip between his teeth as he thought about all this, his breath starting to catch and that was when he realized that _he wasn't breathing normally anymore_, and _the room seemed to be spinning_ and he could _literally hear his heart beating rapidly. Too rapidly_. He tried to steady himself discretely by clutching onto the side table behind him but his hand slipped and he knocked over the vase that was sitting on the table. Instantly all eyes were on him and he let out one shuddered gasp before he fell forwards, his entire body slumped, his knees buckling and legs giving way under him. His eyes fluttered shut, and he tried to keep them open. No, he couldn't slip away into the darkness. Not now. Not when he just made some sort of progress into opening himself up to others. Not like this.

He couldn't hear the yells and shouting from his friends as they quickly made their way to his side, and tried to hold him up. ("Give him air! Give him space to breathe. Oh god, someone call the nurse!") He could barely feel the efforts of his friends trying to lift him up to the couch, all frantic, all not knowing what exactly what to do. His entire body was dead weight and his vision started to blur as he fought with his eyelids to keep them open. No, not now. Not like this.

"Andrew? Andrew? Andrew!" No, not now. Not like this.

As he slowly shifted into unconsciousness and let the darkness take over amongst the chaos that was happening in the choir room because of him, he swore he heard a familiar laughter. The corners of his mouth twitched when he realized who it was. His mother. He was hearing his mother's laughter. Did that mean he was going to die now? Was he going back into her arms now?

No, not now. Not like this.

* * *

><p>The hospital brought back painful memories for each of them.<p>

For Wes and Nick, they remembered the bandages and the shame after seeing the nurses and doctors silently judging them for creating these_ imperfections_ on their skin.

For Blaine, he remembered when he was beaten up so badly that when he made a trip to the grocery store to just buy some medicated oil, the shop owner noticed. The shop owner basically dragged a scared, helpless, crying Blaine to the hospital to get treated. The doctors were confused, but were charmed easily by Blaine's father. Blaine's father was influential and rich. His word was law. Afterwards, Mr Anderson was much more careful and cautious. No repeat incidents. Or at least, none that were visible.

For Thomas, he remembered when the kindly doctor tested the rape kit on him, and he remembered crying even though the doctor promised him a lollipop afterwards. It was overall a traumatic experience for him, almost worse than when he had to go for the court hearing.

Thad remembered when he had come here to have his stomach pumped. Jeff, for his weekly visits to the doctor the previous year after his eating disorder had become slightly more noticeable and was taking a serious toll on his health.

Connor wasn't really a stranger to hospitals either. His anger tended to land his opponents in the wards. His family had a private doctor, Mrs Klaus, who would shake her head every time he turned up at her clinic in the late hours of the night, sporting a not-so-handsome bruise or a cut on his arm. He liked to joke to his old friends that when he got angry, he would basically into Beast from Beauty and the Beast on a bad day. Except with no rose and no obvious 'Beauty'.

They all had stories related to the hospital, so it was uncomfortable for most of them to sit in the waiting room. They must have looked out of place; they were all still in their Dalton uniform, fresh and coiffed, while the other people in the waiting room were mostly mothers or old people who were waiting for their turn. They were all shaken up to say the least. Just witnessing their friend faint like that scared all of them. After the ambulance had pulled Mr Davies and Andrew away towards the hospital, they couldn't help but follow in their respective cars. Of course they were concerned. Andrew was their friend. What if he didn't make it out-

Thomas, who was one of those who had this recurring thought in his head, shook the thought away, fiddling with his thumbs nervously. He felt a reassuring pat on the shoulder from Connor and he looked up at the blond and gave him a weak smile. Everyone else was silent, fingers crossed and prayers said. They just wanted their friend back.

Mr Davies walked from round the corner, sighing when he caught sight of the boys. He walked over to them and let out a sigh. "Andrew is fine for the time being," he said quietly, reluctant to use the word 'fine', because the boy was anything but fine, but at least he was alive and conscious. "He will be staying here for a while. You can go visit him, but make it quick."

"And make sure the nurses don't catch you breaking the visitor limit."

* * *

><p>They approached the side of Andrew's bed cautiously, careful not to make too much noise. The hospital had assigned Andrew to a private ward, so it was a rather small room, but all of them managed to squeeze themselves into the room.<p>

Blaine pulled a chair from the wall and placed it by the side of the bed, casually brushing off any dust on it before sitting on it. He smiled kindly at the freshman who was well rested on the bed, his breathing audible. His steady breathing was a good sign.

"How are you?" Blaine asked, patting his friend's hand comfortingly. The other boys had moved and were quietly surrounding the bed on all three sides.

Andrew chuckled and shook his head. "I've had better days," he said, smiling in reassurance to try to alleviate the frowns on each of his friends' faces. "You guys look as if I really died or something- oops, too soon?" he said, laughing nervously.

Sebastian rolled his eyes at the freshman, leaning forward on the railing by the side of the bed. "Too soon, bro," he said, reaffirming his thoughts. The boys in the room all chuckled, yet trying not to make too much noise.

"Heard you're missing Diagnostic Week. Good for you bro, you should get some rest," Connor said, reaching over to pat Andrew's shoulder.

Andrew nodded slowly, a small smile on his face. "That's one good thing that has come out from this."

"Whatcha talking about? Of course there are more good things," Nick said, grinning.

Andrew attempted to sit up, against the protests of his friends ("Dude! Dude! Stay lying down!"), and managed to get his upper body somewhat upright. "Before you guys go, you should know more about my condition."

He cleared his throat, taking a deep breath. He wouldn't freak out this time. He had been okay up till the point where he had completely collapsed due to exhaustion, and it really wasn't that scary, opening up to people who actually wanted to know what was wrong so they could help.

"My baby brother died in his sleep. So did my mother. I've always thought of it as some sort of curse. What I'd I fell asleep and couldn't wake up the next morning? I let this morbid thought fill my subconscious and well, it's been taking over my life."

He played with the frayed edge of the hospital blanket while trying to string his words together. "Whenever I do get any sort of sleep, it's light sleep. My body constantly fights with my mind, trying to get me any sort of sleep I could."

Jeff frowned, nodding in understanding. Just a few weeks ago he had fought a similar battle with his own body, except it didn't turn out this bad. Thad discretely clapped his shoulder and Jeff turned his head back and smiled slightly.

"How about sleeping pills? Don't they work?" David asked innocently.

"My mother died from overdose."

"Oh. I-I'm sorry." He turned red and bit his lip.

"It's okay, you didn't know."

There was a moment of silence, before Wes decided that maybe they should leave and give Andrew time to rest. After all, he had just gone through a rather eventful afternoon. Besides, it was dinner time and not only were the boys hungry, but if the dinner nurse were to catch all 10 of them in a single ward, things might get ugly.

They said their goodbyes and headed out of the hospital, Wes walking at the back ushering the freshmen quickly towards their cars.

"Hey Thad! Wait up. You okay?" he said, catching up to the other sophomore who was walking alone, hands in his pockets, and head down, clearly bothered by something. Thad was more reserved, but he would never isolate himself from the rest like what he was doing right then.

Thad brushed Wes' hand away from his shoulder. "It's fine; I'm fine. It's just… when Andrew mentioned his mother died from-"

"Yeah, I was worried that might have gotten to you too. But you lived right? You fought and you lived. And that's what's important."

Thad let out a shaky laugh and nodded, finally lifting his eyes from the ground to look at Wes. "Yeah, I guess so."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I just wanted to thank all of you for your support and reviews so far! I never thought this fic would be so successful-ish and that people would actually like it. So, thank you. **

**I can't promise when the next chapter will be up, but I can tell you that I'm always working on this fic. I'll try my bestest to be more regular in my updates. Always remember that I love you!**

**R&R please! Reviews are much appreciated and they keep me going. (they also remind me to work on my fics, haha)**


	7. Chapter 7 : Papa Don't Preach

**A/N: So so so blown away by the response. Thank you all so much for the support so far. :D**

**This will be quite a content and plot heavy chapter. (Which is part of why this chapter took so long to write) Also, **_**13 hour school days**_** for the past few weeks have been killing me.**

**I feel like I should mention this before you start reading: The first part features everyone, and then the rest of the parts will each feature one of the boys. So, if you're really lazy, you could just skip to the parts that have your favorite boys in it. (The order goes like this: Wes, David, Thad, Blaine, Nick, Jeff, Trent, Sebastian, Thomas, Connor)**

**... I hope that made sense.**

_**THIS IS A VERY VERY VERY VERY LONG CHAPTER. BEAR WITH ME. (no really, it adds up to 17 whole pages on word. Holy crap.)**_

**Warning: Triggers ahead. A lot of them. Tread carefully.**

**I don't own anything except my OCs. I wish though, because we'd have more Warblers on Glee. Like a complete spin-off.**

**Well, it's time to meet the parents, eh?**

**Have fun reading and enjoy.**

* * *

><p>"Wow, the school really goes all out, doesn't it?" Connor said as he watched his elderly math teacher who was standing on a ladder hold up a banner that read "DALTON PARENTS DAY RECEPTION" in red letters on a navy blue background, over the cafeteria doors. Holding the other end of the banner was the new French teacher, Mademoiselle Beauclerc, who was mirroring the other teacher. In front of the cafeteria doors stood a Dean, who was giving instructions to the two teachers who were perched precariously on the step ladders, to straighten the banner or move it right or left.<p>

"That's a fine piece of work though, I'm quite enjoying the view," Sebastian said, admiring the French teacher's behind. He smirked and drank from his glass of what looked like water. But Nick was pretty sure he saw Sebastian slip some alcohol from a flask into the glass.

Connor laughed. "You'd appreciate anything offered to your convenience, 'Bas."

Sebastian turned his head to face Connor and rolled his eyes at the star child. "You're just jealous you don't get as good a view as I do, Walken," Sebastian shot back, grinning and turning his attention back to the French teacher.

Connor rolled his eyes back at Sebastian. The others at the table laughed in amusement as they watched the pair banter. They were similar but not quite. Watching them interact was interesting. Thomas, who had his nose buried in a book during the whole exchange, looked up, distracted by the laughing. "What? What happened?"

"We were all laughing at how Sebastian is appreciating the work of _French art_ in front of him." Trent said, giggling.

Thomas turned his attention to where everyone was looking, confused. "The banner wasn't made in France… they probably just printed it from that printing shop down the street. I don't understand what you're talkin-"

Connor grinned fondly at how impossibly innocent and adorab- _hilarious_ his roommate was. "We're not referring to the banner…" he said, trying to hold back his laughter, as was the rest of the table. Thomas stared at the rest of them confusedly, then followed Sebastian's gaze to… _oh_. The bespectacled brunette flushed a deep shade of red, cleared his throat sheepishly and decided to turn his attention back to his book again.

Sebastian was momentarily distracted when Wes and David both came bursting through the doors of the cafeteria. They were the latest of all the students to gather at the cafeteria, and most of the students had turned to stare at the pair, since they were all quite sure the two sophomores were going to get an earful from the Dean, who was turning red already.

Nick winced visibly as the Dean began to lash out loudly at the pair. He shook his head and looked away, turning his attention back to the rest of the freshmen at the table. "So, are all your parents coming tonight?"

All of them nodded. Including Connor, who accompanied it with a long drawn out sigh. "Mine are going to create such a ruckus," he said, shaking his head at the thought of his famous celebrity parents going to the school acting as _parents_ for once. His lips twitched into a small smile. This would also be the first school function they would attend. Usually, the Walkens would send the family nanny in their place to unimportant school events. And that meant that they chose to skip their son's kindergarten graduation, missed sending Connor off on the first day of grade school, left their seats empty at his first piano recital, and even sent a lawyer to pick up Connor instead when Connor got sent to the principal's office for beating up a group of boys older than him singlehandedly. It was only when Connor had nearly dropped his phone in surprise when his nanny had called to tell him (too enthusiastically) that his parents would be attending Parent's Day. It was strange, but oddly comforting. On the outside he may have seemed nonchalant and indifferent about it, but in all honesty, he was actually feeling _ecstatic_ inside.

David and Wes joined the rest at their usual table a few minutes later after a quick explanation to the Dean. The only two missing in the Group was Thad, who was a student councilor in training, so he was helping with the decorating and ushering of the parents into the garden for registration. And Andrew, of course, who was still in the hospital. They assumed that Andrew's father would be by his bedside and not be attending Parent's Day.

"Okay guys, so obviously, there's no meeting today. And next week is homecoming week, so there won't be any meeting next week either. But don't worry, we've planned a special treat for all of you in the following week," David said, grinning at the last sentence. "All we ask is that you help keep the Blackbirds a secret group."

"Blackbirds?" Blaine asked, his head tilted slightly to the side in confusion. The rest of the freshmen had the same dazed and confused expression on their faces. Since when were they called the _Blackbirds_? "Wait wait wait… does it by any chance have to do with the Beatles song? That's one of my favorites," Blaine added, grinning widely.

Wes nodded. "We just thought it was rather appropriate. We mean the song. I hope you guys don't mind that we call you that. You were complaining that 'the Group' sounds too strange a name for us, so…"

"It's kind of tacky, but interesting choice," Sebastian said bluntly, placing his hands behind his head and leaning back into it.

"I think it's awesome!" Blaine said excitedly. "I mean, Blackbird is such an inspiring song, isn't it? The lyrics… they move me," he said, a dopey grin on his face as he looked to the other freshmen for any sign of agreement. They all murmured and nodded their agreement, so Blaine turned his attention back to Wes. "I think we just found ourselves an awesome name."

"It sounds quite mysterious too. Like we're a mafia." Wes said, a smile creeping onto his face.

"Too fluffy for my taste, but I accept." Sebastian said, shrugging.

Wes simply chose to ignore the difficult to please freshman and smiled at the rest of the group. "Alright guys, good luck out there," he said, as the Dean began to call for the students to meet with their parents.

* * *

><p>Mr Davies straightened his bowtie, glancing at the clock on the mantelpiece above the fireplace in the choir room. The Montgomery family was scheduled to see the school counselor first to check on their son's mental wellbeing. He took another sip of his tea as he waited. It wasn't quite time yet, so he decided to get up from his chair behind the wooden table the sophomore always sat at, and walked over to the piano, seating himself down on the bench. He pressed his fingers on the keys, playing a small tune without needing a piano score sheet to guide him.<p>

He looked up when his playing was interrupted by a polite knock on the wooden doors of the choir room. He smiled kindly upon seeing Wesley with his parents. Wesley was the first student that actually checked his own self under his care. Most of the other students he had counseled over the years were brought in to his counseling room, forced by teachers or concerned parents. He was genuinely surprised when the then freshman Wes came into his office, plopped himself down on the recliner and began telling him about all his problems without any prompting at all.

Wes was always an uptight boy, and that characteristic was evident on his parents as well. Well-bred and formally dressed Chinese parents, who Mr Davies had little chance to talk to over the years, only meeting once before during the previous year's Parents' Day.

"Ahh, have a seat, Mr Montgomery, Mrs Montgomery, Wesley can seat himself in the middle," the counselor offered, gesturing to the three chairs at the long wooden table, opposite to Mr Davies' own. He settled down on his seat quietly, and so did the Montgomeries. Wes was fidgeting, his hands clasped together in his lap, fiddling his thumbs. Wes hardly got nervous like this, unless there was a major exam, or a pop quiz he was completely unprepared for. Both of his parents were staring blankly at Mr Davies with a calm, yet somewhat impatient air. That added onto the fact that Wesley was nervous, thus rendered mute, making the atmosphere tense. Mr Davies chuckled softly to ease the situation. "Right, so I'm here to answer any enquiries you have about Wesley's well-being and about his stress management problem. He's actually doing exceptionally well. His grades are in the top percentile of his level, and his… cutting has stopped. Right Wesley?" he said, smiling kindly at the boy, who looked up and nodded back, eyes shifting both sides to catch the reaction of his parents.

Mr Montgomery visibly winced at the mention of Wes' cutting, and Mrs Montgomery looked pointedly away. "That's… that's excellent," Mr Montgomery said in his booming voice, clearing his throat. "We would actually like to discuss pulling Wesley out of counseling," he said, looking directly at Mr Davies. Mrs Montgomery placed an arm over her son's shoulder and nodded.

Wes inhaled a sharp breath as his eyes grew wide and looked frantically at his dad. He knew he had no control over most of his life, but he had to impose some control over the things he loved. He loved being a part of the Blackbirds. He couldn't let his parents take this away from him. If he ever lost these people who he considered his closest friends, he'd only get more stressed up. These friends of his made his day brighter. Even Sebastian's snide remarks and jokes made his day a little better. It made him feel important and noticed. He was a part of something special.

"No, Dad… the sessions are good… I need them," he said, stumbling over his words, trying so desperately to hold onto being a part of the Blackbirds.

His father narrowed his eyes, refusing to look at his son. "I no longer see the need for you to be attending these sessions."

_You just don't want anyone to know that Wesley Montgomery, future successor of Montgomery Finance, couldn't even handle the heavy school workload and actually __**buckled**__ under the pressure. _Wes thought bitterly. He stood up suddenly and shook his head. "No. Dad, I'm staying in counseling. You can't make me leave."

Mr Davie's usually calm grey eyes flashed and he stood up as well, trying to stop Wes from fighting with his parents. They needed to discuss things in a calm matter, not turn it into a screaming match. "Mr Montgomery, since Wesley does not wish to follow this request, perhaps you could reconsider it another time…?" he said, picking his words carefully. He did not need things to turn ugly this early.

Wes did not need another prompt from Mr Davies, and immediately pushed his chair backwards, heading towards the door. Mr Montgomery huffed and nodded, getting up to leave, his wife glancing up at him with her pleading doe eyes, her hand carefully touching her husband's arm as he waited for her to get up from her seat and leave as well. She spoke to him in murmurs, walking alongside him towards the door. She turned her head back just before they stepped out and gave an apologetic look to Mr Davies, her lip quivering ever so slightly, and exited the room before Mr Davies could make anything of it.

* * *

><p>David was the next one scheduled to go in with his parents. He looked up from his phone when Wes burst out of the choir room looking distressed and angry. The boy stood up and placed a comforting hand on the shoulder of his best friend, who simply brushed it away and stalked off. Wes' parents exited the choir room soon after, both politely nodding at Thompsons before walking away quietly. David couldn't help but feel uneasy at the cold glance that Mr Montgomery had cast over him. He shrugged it off and knocked politely on the wooden doors, his parents following behind him as he pushed open the wooden doors that had just been abruptly shut by the earlier family.<p>

"Mr and Mrs Thompson, David, good evening," Mr Davies said, straightening his clothes and trying to regain his composure after the last session. The Thompsons all nodded back in greeting. That reassured the counselor that this family wouldn't be as difficult as the last one.

He scanned over the file in front of him, raising his head after a quick read so that he could make eye contact with the Thompsons. He raised the glasses from his nose and began to wipe them with a handkerchief he procured from his pocket. "Actually, David, I haven't spoken to you in a while… How are you coping…?"

David swallowed a lump in his throat and nodded slowly. "I've been good. Better than… better than last year," he said, a small smile on his face as he thought about the support the freshmen had given him a few weeks ago, and about how Thad and Wes always seemed to know what to do when he needed a shoulder to cry on. Or a good shake to wake himself up from his darker thoughts. He thought about the night when he picked a star in the sky for her, with Andrew's help. It made him feel a lot more relieved, pretending, _believing_ she was in the sky and was still shining as brightly as she did while she was still alive.

He would never ever get over her death, for she was his first love, but little things like that made him a little hopeful that maybe he could get happier. Maybe he would move on.

"That's good. How have you been finding the… counseling sessions? I'd like some _feedback_," Mr Davies said, giving David a knowing smile. David laughed and nodded eagerly. "They're helping me cope. And I think I actually wouldn't mind continuing with the sessions."

There was an audible sigh of relief that escaped from David's father's lips. He patted his son's shoulder and gave him a small smile. "I'm glad you're learning to cope with it son. Please, no more scares like last year-"

"Won't happen again! I promise. There's… purpose in my life now," David said, ducking his head but smiling to himself. He had to stay alive to help the others. Help them learn how to cope too. One day they would all proudly proclaim their freedom from their problems and David would be there to see that. He wanted to. He wasn't planning on leaving just yet.

"No more repeat accidents like last year," he repeated quietly, making a silent but firm promise; to himself, to Mr Davies, to his parents, to the Blackbirds, and most importantly, to Amy.

* * *

><p>"Have a seat, Mr and Mrs Harwood," the counselor said as he gestured to the wooden chairs in front of him, taking a quick sip of his tea.<p>

Thad was stuck in the infirmary, taking care of a hysterically sobbing lost 4 year old boy whom he assumed was the brother of one of the students there. The sophomore hoped that missing the consultation wouldn't result in disaster.

"Thad has shown no signs of relapse, though he is still quite reserved as compared to some of my other patients."

Mrs Harwood frowned at Mr Davies' report, his thick and bushy eyebrows firmly knitted together. "That's a bad thing or a good thing?" he asked, his Italian accent thick.

"Depends. It could mean he prefers to cope quietly, but I'm worried it could be that he is suffering in silence. But knowing your son, I think he is one of the more stable ones," Mr Davies said with confidence. While the rest were still shaky in their "recovery", Thad had always seemed to him like one of the more collected ones. It was also a curse, because he was always rather reserved, preferring to keep his troubles in the dark instead of letting his friends know. He would always sneak off to his little pavilion and sort out his own self instead of letting others into his personal bubble of thoughts.

This time it was Mrs Harwood who spoke up. "Is he still refusing his anti-depressants?" she asked in a hushed tone. Mr Davies nodded, jaw set. That was the only problem with attempting to help Thad recuperate. Ever since the attempt, Thad had an aversion and fear of taking pills of any kind. He refused the anti-depressants that the doctors prescribed for him. He said he would rather go through more pain than touch another pill again. Those were the rare times that Mr Davies was afraid for Thad, that maybe he would never get over this.

"I'll keep trying to coax him into accepting the medication, but I don't believe in coercion so I ask for your patience," Mr Davies promised, standing up to shake hands with Thad's parents. "Thank you for coming today."

Mr Harwood shook his head, smiling wearily. "No, thank you."

* * *

><p>"Good afternoon, Mrs Anderson," Mr Davies greeted as the mother and son pair sat down on the chairs opposite of him. He smiled at Blaine, who smiled back, holding his mother's hand as Mr Davies uncovered Blaine's file.<p>

"Admitted for: Emotional trauma treatment," the elderly man began to read out loud, eyes glancing over the rest of the information quickly, reading the rest of the file under his breath in barely a mumble.

He looked up and smiled at Mrs Anderson, nodding. "Blaine has been doing very well in Dalton. He's a bright boy, and a potential leader. His teachers do like him a lot," he assured the woman, who sighed in relief.

"Thank you for helping my Blaine... he's been through so much with his father..." she said, squeezing her son's hand.

"I'm doing great here at Dalton, Mom. The people here accept me. It's like I have another family here," he said, with a small smile on his face. He was, of course, referring to the Blackbirds. They were his brothers. They lifted each other up. They lifted him up, and made him even more confident of himself. He was no longer afraid of being ostracized or bullied for admitting his sexuality. Blaine Anderson was 100% gay, and proud.

"That's good..." his mother said, wiping away a tear from the comer of her eye. She was happy for her son, glad that he was safe at Dalton.

His father might never ever understand why his son "chose" to be gay, but at least Blaine had a support system at school. It would take a lot of time for Blaine's father to acknowledge his mistakes and apologize, and to understand that his son was the way he was. The situation was so bad that he had refused to attend Parents' Day, but he had his mother's support, and that was enough for him.

"Thank you, so much..." Mrs Anderson said as she stood up slowly, her hand still tightly holding onto her son's. She smiled a tired smile, her eyes glimmering with happiness as Blaine helped her out of the room. Blaine paused right before the wooden doors, turning his head to look at Mr Davies, and mouthed a silent thank you. For the Blackbirds. For assuring his mother. For whatever crazy idea he had in the first place that prompted him to create the Blackbirds. For helping him find his family of brothers here.

He nodded to Mr Davies, who nodded back, then quietly stepped out, letting the wooden door swing shut behind him.

* * *

><p>Like Blaine, only one of Nick's parents arrived at Dalton that evening to attend the Parents' Day meetings. And like Blaine, that parent was his mother. She had seemed reluctant to come, because it meant she had to rush to the school from work and Nick's little sister would be left all alone with the possibly drunk and thus fiery father. But she had taken the chance and kindly asked the neighbors to look out for anything going on in the house.<p>

Nick fiddled with the buttons on his blazer as his mother fussed over him. She hadn't seen him in a month and was naturally worried about her son. She swore that Nick had lost weight, grew a little taller and even fussed over the dark eye circles visible on his face. He waved her concerns away, assuring her that he was doing great. He just wanted her to have one less thing to worry about. Anyway, his experience at Dalton so far had been pretty great.

Nick walked slightly ahead as they approached the choir room. Knocking once and pushing open the doors, he led his mother to the seats set up.

"Good evening Mrs Duval. And dear Nicholas," Mr Davies said upon seeing them. He already had Nick's file opened up in front of him. "Mrs Duval, I think your son has been very brave these couple of weeks. No relapse and the teaching staff do think of him as well brought up," he said, eyes twinkling.

The woman smiled and nodded. "That's how I want him to grow up to be," she said. /Anything but his father.

Nick grinned, reaching over to grab onto his mother's hand, but she flinched and pulled it away instinctively. Nick frowned, placing his hand on her arm instead, but she let out a soft hiss and scrunched her face. As if in _pain._Nick wasn't stupid or ignorant. He put two and two together, eyes flashing. "Did Dad do this?" he asked, his voice shaky, his eyebrows knitted together in worry.

His mother shot a quick wary glance at Mr Davies, before turning her attention back to her son. "Nicholas... not here..." she said, her voice weak, wavering ever so slightly. She turned pale, and nodded to Mr Davies, exchanging a few words with him before excusing herself and Nick out of the room.

"Mom, you have got to tell someone, or move with Aunt Linda... You can't let him hurt you and Dana..." Nick sputtered out once they took a step out of the room. He was so focused on talking to his mom and trying to coax her into leaving his father that he completely missed the bouncy blond waving to him eagerly.

"I don't have the means-"

"No, Mom, you're just afraid. You don't have to be scared of him... You don't have to care whether he can live on his own... You have to think about what's best for you," he continued to urge.

"I-I-I'll think about it okay?" she replied exasperatedly, sighing softly. She cupped Nick's face with her hands. "You are such a good boy. I'm proud of you."

Nick's expression softened and nodded. He would continue to be braver, and he would continue to fight. _No more cutting,_he promised silently as he engulfed his mother in a tight embrace.

* * *

><p><em>Well that was odd. <em>Jeff thought as he walked into the choir room, both of his parents following quietly behind him. Nick had just completely ignored him. But that was not the thing that bothered Jeff the most. It was the look on his face. The worry, the anger and a hint of fear in his deep brown eyes. Jeff shook those thoughts away, too absorbed in worry to realize that he had just thought about how beautiful Nick's eyes were...

He would ask Nick about it later and be a good supportive_ friend_to him, he decided as he sat down on the chairs provided.

Jeff zoned out of the conversation, biting his lip and worrying about Nick, until his mother gently nudged his side. "What? Sorry," he said, looking down sheepishly.

"It's okay, just take a deep breath and slowly tell us about the incident... There's no rush."

Jeff frowned, looking quizzically at his mother, taking a moment to figure out what she was talking about. _Oh, that incident at breakfast._His mother looked even more worried at Jeff's silence, and Jeff smiled comfortingly at her.

Recounting the experience to his parents was scary. He didn't want them to worry about him, but yet he knew this was something that they should worry about. He had thought he could have gotten away with not eating while he was at Dalton, since he was no longer under the watchful eyes of his parents, but that had turned into disaster that fateful morning when his body had betrayed him and caused him to heave whatever was in his stomach into the school toilet. He shuddered as he recalled the incident aloud, trying not to go too much into detail so that his parents wouldn't be too paranoid and demand he be monitored stringently by a teacher or any of the sort. That would have made his experience at Dalton all sorts of unbearable.

"I've been good though, I swear. My diet has been getting better," Jeff mumbled slowly, his gaze fixed on the table in front of him, avoiding eye contact with everyone else who was in the same room. He paused for a moment, taking in deep breaths, trying his best to pick up the pieces from the bomb he had just dropped on his parents about what had happened that morning.

"My roommate Blaine and my friend Nick…Nicky, they've been really helpful and have been reminding me to eat and stuff," he said, fidgeting nervously. Nick practically half-lived in the same dorm room as Blaine and Jeff, given the many sleepovers they had over weekends. Nick's roommate was annoying, so Blaine and Jeff were kind enough to let him stay in their room when he wished. Jeff was especially pleased with Nick moving in. He loved having two of his best friends with him almost 24/7 of the time. Plus, Blaine sucked at Call of Duty. Nick however, was awesome at it.

Mr Davies nodded, a knowing look in his eyes. He turned his gaze to the boy's parents and watched their reactions. Both of them sported matching worried looks, but he could see the relief in their eyes as Jeff comforted them. Mrs Sterling let out a breath of relief, her gaze flickering to the side to meet Mr Davies' one. "Could you… could you carry on taking care of Jeff? He doesn't update us quite enough," she said, turning her eyes back on Jeff just in time to catch his scowl, "and we do get worried."

The elderly counselor nodded, sorting Jeff's file back into the pile. "I assure you Jeff is in very capable hands. We'll take care of him and make sure he's okay."

"We?"

He nearly jumped up in shock at the realization of what he had accidentally let slip. He guessed that Jeff's parents would not be too happy if they thought that it meant the school management also knew about Jeff's condition. Jeff's eyes flashed worriedly at Mr Davies as well, biting his lip as he stared at the counselor, hoping that he would come up with something to explain that.

"Oh, oh no, not the school management. I mean, they do know that he goes for counseling but no information is leaked. Everything is strictly confidential. Do not worry too much. By 'we' I mean… his friends!" he said, frantically trying to cover up what he had said. He anxiously watched as the suspicious and intense stares of the Sterling parents slowly softened. He unclenched his fists, releasing his worry, and smiled at them as they exited the room.

He slowly pulled a handkerchief out of the breast pocket of his button up shirt and wiped the cold sweat off his forehead. That was a close save.

* * *

><p>"My son did what?"<p>

Mr Davies winced noticeably at the loud roar that was Mr Nixon's voice as he glared at the counselor. Trent shook his head, rolling his eyes and staring off to the side, clearly not wanting to partake in this conversation. Or rather, he was avoiding the conversation all together.

"He… provoked a student. It's in the records… I wasn't there for it, but from what I've heard it's minor-"

"It's in the records?" This time the coffee in Mr Davies' cup actually started to vibrate, creating little ripples in the liquid. Trent continued to fuss with his hair, staring out the window although there was nothing to see outside since it was dark out already. He was showing obvious signs on guilt and nervousness as his father grew increasingly more agitated. Mr Davies was just afraid the other adult would try to flip the table or do something drastic.

"Look, I've had enough crap from the old school, and I refuse to believe that my son would actually provoke a student. I thought this was a no bullying policy school? The other student must be telling lies! All lies! My son wouldn't hurt a fly!"

Trent finally decided to try and soothe his father, placing his hand on his father's arm and giving him a look. "Dad, relax. It was just some words taken out of context. I was out of line. I apologized." It wasn't easy admitting that to his impulsive father, since Trent had always chose to label himself as the victim. He still did not believe he was in the wrong, but he was sincerely sorry that his words had affected Jeff and that he did not pick his words carefully enough. Sometimes he tended to speak with no filter at all. That was one of those times.

"Oh," Mr Nixon huffed, settling back into the chair, leaning against the back of it, trying to get more comfortable, as if he expected to be staying in his seat for a long time. "What else do I need to know about my son's well-being?"

"Nothing much actually," Mr Davies replied, staring at the words on the file and trying to avoid Mr Nixon's gaze. "Otherwise your son has been faring well. We promise a safe environment here at Dalton, so I think you can be assured that we will see to it that our anti-bullying policy is reinforced. Actually, Trent, do you have anything you want to share with your father?" the counselor asked, turning his gaze to the student, who looked back at him with a confused expression.

"Not much actually. It's nice here. I actually like it here. And the people don't hurt me verbally or physically so it's okay. The bullying and teasing…" Trent's usually confident voice wavered a little, causing him to quickly clear his throat, regaining his cool composure. "They'll always be in the back of my mind like a constant memory. They've left their scars in my past but I'm actually looking forward to the future and standing up for myself. I have nothing to be ashamed of about my weight. I'm confident, and I'm me, and that's all that really matters," he said, seemingly nonchalant, but his insides were jumbled up with emotion. He didn't even realize that he had this in him… this strength and this motivation to get better.

For the first time that evening, a soft expression graced Mr Nixon's face, and he turned to the counselor and smiled. "That's great to hear actually. Thanks for taking care of my son."

Mr Davies shook his head as if to say _no problem_, heaving a sigh of relief when the father and son pair said their polite thank-yous and goodbyes, as they left the room.

* * *

><p>Sebastian groaned, leaning on the side of the wall, his gaze flickering every now and then from the floor to the wooden door that led to the room he would go to every Saturday. His right hand held tightly onto his phone, pressing the device to his ear, while the other hand was stuffed into the pocket of his pants, thumb sticking out and tapping impatiently against the fabric. He was alone. And that was never a good thing to see on a day like Parents' Day.<p>

He had managed to avoid several teachers while making his way to the choir room, so that he could avoid answering to them why his parents were not present. He continued to listen to the dialing tone on his phone. Pulling the phone away from his ear in frustration, he pressed the 'redial' button. Third time was the charm right?

"Come on, come on, come on," he repeatedly muttered under his breath, faintly hearing sounds of shouting or something coming from the choir room. Raising his eyebrow in amusement, he cast a curious glance at the closed doors, before staring back at his feet again when he heard the voice of his mother through the phone.

"Mom? Why aren't you here yet? You have to at least attend the meeting with the counselor. This is about my health, about how I am doing, you can't-"

There was silence on the other line, and Sebastian could hear the familiar roar of an engine in the background.

It was the roar of a plane engine.

"Where are you headed to this time?" he demanded, bitterness in his tone. He didn't care if she was his mother and thus he had to respect her or any of that shit. She had let him down. She had promised to come, but no, she was probably going to jet off somewhere beautiful and exotic and forget her only son-

"Rome. I'm sorry, baby, I'm really sorry. It's just, opportunities like these don't come very often, and Pierre _insisted_ that I come…"

Sebastian frowned, his lips pouting in confusion. "Pierre? Who the hell is he? What happened to Steven?"

"I broke up with him."

"What? Another one? Again?" Sebastian said, barely biting back his words. He had actually liked Steven this time. His mother went through boyfriends like they were clothes catalogues, and Steven actually held the record for being with his mother the longest- 18 months. They had even moved as an entire faux family to Paris, where the symptoms of Sebastian's drinking and anger management problem first started to arise.

The tone in his mother's voice was hesitant, with a twinge of guilt. "We broke up last week. I'm sorry, but it was not meant to be…"

"None of the guys you meet are _ever_ '_meant to be'_ with you," he snapped back at her. He could feel the fire inside of him starting to burn even stronger. He was barely holding back an entire inferno. He spotted a vase sitting on a coffee table nearby and swung his arm, smashing the vase on the floor. Noise. He barely winced at it. He just needed something to project his anger at. Vein throbbing painfully in his forehead, he tried to calm himself down, reaching in the inner pocket of his blazer to produce a small bottle of pills. Mood stabilizers. He could only take them in about another 2 hours, but he was suddenly scared of what he would do if he got even angrier. Popping two pills quickly into his mouth, he swallowed them dry and turned around, leaning his head against the wall instead. He had completely lost track of the conversation he was having with his mother. _"…sorry….to call….your father…promised….attend…."_ Everything was a complete blur. It made him dizzy.

He barely caught the words of the message his mother was trying to relay to him over the phone, but when he pieced it all together, he jumped backwards with a start, almost losing his footing.

"What do you mean by that? Dad, as in _Dad_, is coming?" he nearly squeaked into the phone.

There was a noise behind him; of someone clearing their throat. Sebastian turned his head slowly, eyes growing wider as he took in the sight of his father. This was the man who shared the same blood, the same DNA as he did. The older man's eyes met the identical ones of his son. There was a flicker of something in the older man's eyes. Guilt? Fear? Disappointment? Sebastian couldn't tell, but he ignored it. His father didn't care. His father didn't feel anything for his son. Definitely not love.

There was an impatient click on the other line, signaling that his mother had hung up, as Sebastian continued to grip onto his phone and press it up against his ear as he tried to come up with some kind of response to his dad's sudden appearance. His hand slowly moved to keep the phone in the right pocket of his pants.

"Dad?" Sebastian said uncertainly, gaping at the only other person in the same hallway, who was dressed in a handsome suit.

The man merely smiled and approached his son.

_No. You don't get to just walk back into my life like this… after years of no-contact. No. You don't get to do this. No._ Sebastian had to resist the urge to deliver a blow to the man's face with his now tightly clenched fist. The effect from the pills had kicked in though, and although the fire inside of him was still burning, he felt too numb to take any action. Glancing away from his father with his jaw set, he marched off to the choir room, stopping once to make sure his father was actually still following him.

Coughing awkwardly as he knocked on the door and opened it, he smirked at the expression of shock on the counselor's face. So he hadn't expected Senator Smythe to appear at the Parents' Day meeting either. The cocky freshman nodded in greeting as Mr Davies' gaze shifted from his father to himself.

"Mr Davies, I presume?"

"Yes. Senator Smythe… it's a pleasure having you here today." He paused. "I wasn't expecting your arrival…"

Senator Smythe nodded, smiling over at his son, who rolled his eyes and refused to meet his father's gaze. "His mother had something on-"

"You're not my father." Sebastian muttered, barely audible, but enough for the other two people present in the room to hear. Sebastian glared so intently at the table that Mr Davies was so sure if the glare had been turned to him, he would melt under the student's gaze; and not in the good way. Mr Davies cleared his throat nervously as he noticed the sparkle in Senator Smythe's eyes die down, though his smile was still held in place. He must have had a lot of practice, smiling in front of large crowds and putting on a front like that.

"Sebastian Smythe, in counseling for alcoholism and anger management-"

"In my defense, I practically lived on Courvoisier in my daily coffee back in Paris, and no one stopped me," the Smythe in question piped up, a triumphant smirk on his face, acting like he was actually proud of his defiance.

Senator Smythe straightened his tie, casting a stern look at his son. "And I will be speaking to your mother about it-"

"Who gave you the right to?" Sebastian shot back, finally making eye contact with his father, but the look in his eyes was murderous. "Oh right," he mocked, turning his head away and lips curling into a snarl, "You gave your own self the right didn't you, _Mr Senator_?"

Mr Davies shook his head at Sebastian and gave him a stern look, as if to say, _settle down_. The only adult Sebastian would listen to in the room at that moment would be him, and with Sebastian's anger problems, he did not wish to see what the boy was truly capable off when enraged.

"Sebastian, you're still in school and I will not hesitate to lay the school guidelines down on you if you do not settle down immediately!" Mr Davies said, standing up and gently nudging Sebastian's shoulder downwards. Sebastian glared at the counselor, before turning his frown to the side, looking away from the two adults in the room.

There was a long silence that followed, before Sebastian decided to stand up. "Well, I think this conversation is quite over," he said curtly, holding an indifferent expression on his face as he turned towards the counselor, who was gaping at the boy, not knowing how to convince him to stay. Clearly none of the adults dared to say anything, knowing that the teen was ready to fight back against whatever they had to tell him. Mr Davies hadn't given up completely on Sebastian yet. He just believed that the boy needed time to calm himself down and think rationally. Senator Smythe however…

"You've given up. You're gonna give up on me just like you did with me and Mom 9 years ago. You want someone safe. You don't want me," he uttered, his eyes finally meeting those of his father's, reflecting only guilt and pain in them. It was the first time Mr Davies had ever seen Sebastian being completely vulnerable. It felt as if it was not Sebastian standing in front of him anymore, except it was. This was the real, raw Sebastian.

Sebastian inhaled a shuddering breath, squeezing his eyes shut, as if shutting the entire world out from knowing about how weak he was at that moment. He swallowed the lump in his throat, internally cursing himself for his little monologue earlier. He blamed it on his medication, but he knew deep inside that wasn't just it. It was too many years of bottled up sadness, too many years of wondering _why_. He pushed his chair out in one swift motion and headed towards the door briskly, not caring to turn and take a second look at the adults behind him.

Just before he reached the door, there came a hesitant, stuttering voice behind him. "I'm really sorry, Sebastian."

Sebastian forced himself to turn and look at his father, giving the older man an icy stare, taking a deep breath in before his said his last piece. "Yeah? Sorry isn't quite enough." He pulled the doors open, and as he turned away, taking a step out, he turned around again. "You're 9 years too late."

* * *

><p>Thomas clutched onto his mother's hand tightly as they entered the choir room. His other hand swung freely by his side. His father was busy at work, and Thomas didn't blame him. He was just thankful he had someone by his side. He smiled up at his mother, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose as they took their seats in front of Mr Davies.<p>

Thomas was still scarred from the almost-meeting of his attacker's wife two weeks ago, and was still reeling from Andrew's hospital scare just a week ago. The thing he hated the most about himself was how weak he was as compared to the other freshmen in the Blackbirds. Everyone else seemed much stronger, braver, and more willing to fight. While he already opened up to these friends about his traumatic past, he wasn't sure how he could ever get over it.

Intimate physical contact was still a big no-no, although he stopped having drastic reactions to every intimate touch from his friends. The one time on Wednesday during lunch, Jeff had forgotten and decided to play the "guess who?" game on him. Usually he would have broken down in the middle of the hallway, because being temporarily blinded, not recognizing your "attacker" and finding yourself completely defenseless and clueless made him feel dizzy, like he was spiraling back in time to those terrible afternoons in the boys' locker room.

But Thomas had merely frozen, convincing himself not to burst out into tears, soothing his own self by remembering that it was only /Jeff/, and Jeff would not hurt him.

"Thomas has been doing great, Mrs Fields. Quiet and reserved, but I think he's been really brave, being able and actually being /willing/ to recount the unfortunate incident. Most patients try to avoid the whole confrontation of the issue by pretending it doesn't exist but your son had been very brave."

Mrs Fields smiled, nodding as she listened attentively, patting her son's hand lightly every now and then. She always berated herself for not seeing the signs sooner and letting the incidents repeat without doing anything about it, even though it was almost impossible to prove that Thomas' attacker had done anything bad to her son, seeing that there was no video evidence and the school had looked up highly at the teacher.

"We have to discuss what kind of therapy Thomas should go for. Currently he sits for Talk therapy, but there are other methods to help you overcome haphephobia," Mr Davies said, reaching in one of the pockets of Thomas' file to present to the mother and son pamphlets and other materials on the different types of therapies.

"We want to stay clear from medication right? It's the fastest and easiest, but not the best emotionally and mentally, in the long run. Behavioral therapy is worth a shot," he rambled as the Fields both picked up a pamphlet each and began to glaze over the words and pages.

"What's exposure therapy?" Mrs Fields asked, reading off one of the pamphlets. She noticed that Mr Davies had left out that therapy method in his introduction, and was now staring at him with a curious look in her eyes.

There was a sign of hesitance in Mr Davies' reaction to the question, as it he actually did not want to talk about it. Thomas frowned in worry as he noticed this change in atmosphere. What was so bad about it that Mr Davies almost wanted to hush it up? He was intrigued and reached over for the pamphlet, carefully reading through it.

"Basically in exposure therapy, the doctors would put Thomas into stressful scenarios involving his phobia and thus he would overcome his fear. It's a test… of how one would react when being forced to directly confront their problems. The shock from it would definitely create a more…_lasting_ impact, which is why I-" he paused, frowning slightly, not knowing how to finish his sentence without sounding too biased about the issue. "But I just... don't think it's the best idea. The effectiveness is the highest and it really will test you and really just… prepare you for the rest of the challenges ahead. But… personally… I don't find it quite _okay_to subject anyone to such a treatment."

Thomas inhaled sharply, eyes flashing with fear as he looked to his mother to watch her reaction. Was she actually going to consider that? He was just becoming accustomed to the idea that, yeah, maybe he could go for a medication treatment, since it seemed like a plan he could actually follow through with. He wasn't exactly sure how the pills would help, but it sounded like a plausible option to him. He just… felt so weak all the time, not being able to get "better", not making "progress", and as lame and nonsensical as it sounded, if he agreed to go for pill therapy, it would make him feel a little better believing that it was the fault of the pills for not allowing him to "recover", and was not entirely his fault. He would never admit this to anyone though. Everyone already thought he was as fragile as a glass rose. He didn't want them to know he was struggling to even believe he could overcome his haphephobia.

"I think I need to discuss this with my husband," Mrs Fields said, breaking Thomas' train of thought. She gingerly picked up the pamphlets off the table and placed them into her handbag.

Thomas nodded meekly, following his mother out the room, letting his feet drag underneath him as he continued to ponder the issue. Suddenly exposure therapy didn't seem that bad. It was dangerous and scary, but at least once he overcame it (if he even managed to overcome whatever they threw at him), he'd be able to proudly say he fought his demons. And these demons were putting up a very good fight.

* * *

><p>"Nana Joy!" Connor said excitedly, getting up and running over to hug the family nanny. He buried his nose into her long, hastily tied up hair. She was a little shorter than he was, but the scent of flour and spices from her hair were familiar to him. Connor pulled back with the biggest grin on his face, his blue eyes twinkling. Out of all the people back home, Connor missed Nana Joy the most. He felt like a little boy again, running to Nana Joy after a long day in kindergarten to show her a finger painting he had done in Art Class. Or like when he tripped and cut himself running up and down the spiral staircases in his house for fun, and Nana Joy had patched him up and kissed his knee better. And as Nana Joy ruffled Connor's soft blonde hair, it was just like the young, innocent, carefree Connor was there again. The little boy had emerged and took over the angry, forgotten, misled teenager.<p>

Connor looked behind Nana Joy and realized that she was alone. That was odd. He had seen his parents at reception, keeping low profiles by wearing large bulky sunglasses over their faces. Connor had recognized their perfect smiles and refined demeanor immediately. He had a conversation with the two of them, excitedly updating them about school, and how he had friends now. _Good, kind, honest, down-to-earth_ friends who would not lead him astray. Their smiles and nods of acknowledgement made his heart tingle with… warmth. It had been long since he felt like his parents actually cared for him, like they actually wanted to know what was going on in his life.

Like they were actually being normal parents.

"Where are Father and Mother?" Connor asked, feeling disappointment start to sink in. No, they couldn't have just left. They couldn't have left without meeting with his school counselor for god's sake! No, they couldn't have-

"I'm sorry, Walkie, they had to leave early…" Nana Joy said, her eyebrows creased with worry as she watched his expression darken and the glint in his eyes leave to become the cold, guarded and snarky teenager again; the boy with problems.

"Oh," he said numbly, blinking as he took a step backwards, as if he had been shoved from the front. He steadied himself, a loud buzzing in his ears as he felt a chaos of emotions running through him. First disappointment, then sadness. Regret. Self-deprecation, then anger. Fury. He was almost tempted to grab the nearest vase and trash it to the ground, and he would, had he forgotten to take his medicine that evening. He didn't know how he was feeling so much emotion at that point, but it must have been because the full effects of his medicine had not kicked in yet. Nana Joy reached for his hand and grabbed it, entwining her calloused hand with his as they walked towards the choir room.

Knocking the door and opening it, Connor led his nanny to her seat and sat down in the one next to her. The one that would have been meant for either his father or mother if they had turned up… Connor sighed, squeezing his eyes shut and trying his best to calm down and dull the burning inside of him at that moment. He was feeling nothing but an intense burn inside of him, like he was a kettle boiling, the water threatening to spill, but the lid was on too tight and it couldn't be lifted. It couldn't be removed.

Mr Davies noticed the usual cocky and confident behavior of the boy in front of him was not there, and was surprised at the actual silence in the room. By now, Connor should have made at least one snide (but harmless) remark about his outfit or about how 'uncomfortable' the chair he was sitting on was. But he wasn't, and that threw Mr Davies off.

"Good evening Connor, and I presume you are the boy's nanny….?" He asked, smiling when the elderly lady nodded back in affirmation. "I'll just make this quick since you're the last one on the list." He cleared his throat, looking through Connor's file. "You've been doing great, Connor. You haven't been involved in a fist fight since… well, there was one time but you didn't initiate it or throw any punches…" he said, glancing up once at Connor, fully knowing that Connor knew which incident he was referring to. It was when Trent had attacked Jeff and Connor had stepped in to break the fight. Connor had been tempted to throw a few punches, but the important thing was that he never actually took any action. This was some progress. In the past, he would never hesitate to knock the living lights of anyone who crossed his path or the ones of his "friends", and he wouldn't just stop there. He would never know when to stop.

Snapping out of his reverie, Connor blinked at Mr Davies, trying to get back into the flow of the conversation. The adults were discussing something about his medication. "I take it regularly… Thomas reminds me when I forget," he said reassuringly. _And I, in turn, will protect Thomas from whatever is out there that wants to harm him._

Mr Davies nodded. "Right, about that… here's the excuse letter you requested, to skip class on Tuesday to see the doctor?" Mr Davies said, sliding the envelope across the table towards Connor. "Is there a problem with your medicine?"

Connor shook his head slowly. "No, it's just… I want to stop relying on the pills to keep my temper under check… I want to feel _normal_ again. The pills…" his voice trailed off as his gaze flickered away from the intense gaze of the counselor, and he looked at Nana Joy who nodded encouragingly before continuing. "They constantly remind me that I have issues, and it frustrates me to no end. I don't want to rely too much on my pills… I have a feeling Sea Bass, I mean, Sebastian," he quickly corrected, aware that maybe Mr Davies did not know of Connor's annoying nickname-giving habit, "is slowly becoming an addict," he said, his gaze flickering back to Mr Davies as he finally blurted out the one thought that had been burning him for a while. Sebastian was going to kill him for telling anyone about this. He knew that. And the old Connor wouldn't even care about anyone else's problems. But Sebastian was the second closest friend he had here, since they had the same problem with their anger and were taking the same medication, and they both loved to banter with each other. They understood each other, and Connor was probably the only person who knew about Sebastian's issues in the first place. Sebastian was cocky, just like Connor, so it wouldn't be easy to make them open up. But somehow they found a friendship in common suffering, and hey, at least it was some kind of friendship right?

Mr Davies frowned. He didn't manage to detect that when he saw Sebastian earlier. But he remembered how Sebastian was adamant about continuing the use of pills to help stabilize his mood. "I'll make a note to talk to him about it… Or talk to his doctor about it."

Connor nodded, letting out a sigh of relief. All he wanted to do was help Sebastian get better, and not allow him to trip and stumble off onto another downhill path.

Connor walked his nanny all the way to the front gates, listening to her talk about anything and everything, from how she thought the milkman was cheating her of her money, to how she had found a rat in the kitchen the other day and it almost made her faint. He grinned, listening to her attentively.

He stood by the gates, waving goodbye to his nanny as she stepped into the cab. He continued to stand there, hands in his pockets, watching as the cab turned the corner and disappeared from view. He was still bitter about the fact that his parents had left so abruptly, without so much as a "goodbye". It seemed very much to him that they didn't actually care about his wellbeing. They only came so that they could present themselves as the perfect parents. But yet, in the end, they didn't care. Only his nanny cared about him. His parents didn't even care.

What was new?

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><p><strong>AN:** **So wow, that was kinda an intense chapter wasn't it? I hope you guys found it okay. I contemplated posting this chapter in two parts, but that would have caused some issues. I hope you guys weren't turned off by the long chapter.**

**I did my research for this chapter, so all the medical information in Thomas' part is not made up. It is very real.**

**Again, no promises till when the next chapter is up, but it should be much easier to write than this one. (:**

**R&R! Reviews help so much. :)**


	8. Chapter 8 : New Soul

**A/N: ****Hope you guys enjoy this chapter, hmm. Quite a lot of drama.**

**Warnings: (Possible) triggers ahead. Tread carefully.**

**I don't own anything except my OCs.**

**Have fun reading and enjoy.**

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><p>"Go to homecoming with me?"<p>

Homecoming… homecoming was the next day. And he didn't have a date yet. In your typical high school, homecoming was only for seniors and their dates, but Dalton was special, since their yearly intake of students was about half regular schools. Even adding the Crawford girls into the mix for this combined homecoming still seemed like a pathetic party, since the seniors tended to pick other seniors as their dates. So the student council on both sides decided they would open the dance to the students from the other levels as well. For the whole week, the school was abuzz with much romantic tension, random proposals and date invites in the hallways between lessons, and the occasional boy running into the toilet to cry after being rejected by a crush.

Nick paused in his tracks, his jaw dropping just slightly at the sudden proposition, spinning himself around so he could properly address the speaker. He nearly tripped over his own feet in his haste, but maintained his composure. "I'm sorry, what? I thought you said-"

"Go to homecoming with me," the other freshman repeated, with a slightly demanding edge in his voice, raising his eyebrow, and placing his hands into his pockets in a somewhat nervous manner. It was like he was actually afraid that Nick was going to say no. But nervous? No, no way he was ever nervous…

The brunette only laughed nervously, running a hand through his hair. He couldn't help but feel nervous, his heart pounding in his ears. It was honestly flattering that the other boy was actually considering to take him as a homecoming date. He had known the other freshman was gay too since the first day they had ever met. He just didn't think he, Nicholas Duval, was mildly attractive to anyone at all. He didn't understand how he could appeal to any guy. He was plain looking, short, wasn't particularly athletic or funny. He failed to see what was so special about him that made the other boy notice. He decided to save the self-deprecating discussion for later; figuring things out had to happen now.

"Really? Why?" Nick questioned, stepping closer to the other boy. "Why me?" he pressed. A soft blush painted his cheeks as he tried to lock gazes with the taller boy.

"I'm hot; you're cute. And we both don't want to be alone," came the blunt reply. Nick opened his mouth in indignant protest, because he was perfectly content with going without a date, but the other boy raised his hand as if to hint for the short brunette to be silent. "Just go with me."

Nick shifted his feet nervously. Something was holding him back from just saying yes, but he couldn't figure out what. "It just doesn't feel like it would be fair..."

"Fair to who? Jeff?" the other brunette said, cocking an eyebrow upwards in curiosity. The sides of his mouth quirked up to form an amused smirk on his face. "You prefer the skinny Blondie boy to me? Hello, I'm Sebastian freaking' Smythe! I don't ask people to homecoming- _they_ ask _me_. But for you, I'll make an exception." The taller brunette smirked, raising an eyebrow as if challenging the other boy to say anything other than 'yes'.

Nick didn't know why he was hesitant to accept Sebastian's offer either. It wasn't like he was tied down to anyone, but he had originally planned to ask Jeff to just go and goof off with him at the party. Totally platonic and not date-like, not at all. And hadn't he been complaining the whole week to Jeff about how he thought it was unfair that Blaine, although proudly gay, managed to get so many offers for homecoming, while he had none? When Sebastian mentioned Jeff's name, he felt a little pang in his chest, which was quite _strange_. He didn't know what to make of it. Waving the thought away (he had more important things to think about at the moment), he bit his lip, actually contemplating the cocky freshman's offer. What was the harm in it anyway? Besides, he had less than 24 hours to find a date.

With just a slight hint of hesitance, he nodded. "Yeah, sure, I'll go with you to homecoming."

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><p>"I can't just <em>waltz<em> up to him and suavely ask him to homecoming! It doesn't work that way! I'm not _you_, Blaine; I'm just lost and confused and I'm not charming, not _at all_! What part of me screams 'ideal gentleman'?" the blond boy said, flailing his arms about in a somewhat manic manner, pacing up and down the cramped walkway in between the two beds, while an incredibly amused Blaine sat by the side, his legs tucked under him, looking the complete picture of relaxation.

The contrast was hilarious, and strangely it worked for them as roommates. Jeff's frantic steps were growing increasingly louder and faster. Blaine stood up, reaching an arm out and placing it on the hyperactive blond's shoulder, literally causing the boy's movements to come to a sudden halt.

"Like _me_? Jeff, I don't know the first thing about romance. I've never been in a relationship, or been in love. I'm too afraid to even be in one. I'm scared I'll ruin everything," he said, throat suddenly very dry. _I've ruined enough things in my life. My relationship with my father, for one.  
><em>  
>He sighed, wiping off the despondent look that was on his face, fixing a tight smile on his face. "Relax, Jeff. He's your best friend- well besides me, of course- and he wouldn't treat you any different if you ask him to the dance. You could even say you were going as friends if you wanted," Blaine suggested, shrugging. He patted Jeff's shoulder in encouragement. "Nick's definitely a catch-" he paused to laugh at the sudden murderous look in the blond's eyes, "you should go get him before <em>someone else<em>realizes he's still lacking in a date."

Jeff swallowed a lump in his throat, his breath catching. What if someone already did? He had an uneasy feeling at the pit of his stomach as he thought about seeing Nick dance with someone else, his hand clasped around a hand that wasn't Jeff's… He bit his lip, willing himself to not think about things like that. Jeff was confused, to say the least. He had gone his whole life believing he was straight, since he was attracted to girls, but when Nick came into his life, he couldn't help but feel a _pull_ towards the brunette. Like some kind of _force _was willing for them to be together; Like they were destined to be bound to each other, to be linked together. His mind had gone into an overdrive. He was woken up from his thoughts by Blaine, who had noticed that his roommate was spacing out again, probably over-thinking again. He sighed, stretching and yawning in laziness. Jeff blinked at Blaine, then swallowed a lump in his throat as he formulated a "plan" in his head. It was going to be rash and not thought through at all, but heck, _he had to try_.

Jeff made a move towards the door, his mind set on where to go. "I'm going to go find Nick now," he announced to his one person audience, who simply laughed and nodded, showing Jeff a thumbs-up in encouragement.

"You can do it, Jeff, now go!" he cheered as he watched his roommate run out of the room, a little skip in his step. He was glad that Jeff had found a little happiness, and as an out and proud gay, he was more than happy to help out a friend in figuring out his sexuality. Dalton was just so… safe. It was now comfortable to talk about things like this. He remembered his initial shock at seeing a pair of seniors kissing openly in the hallways on his first day of lessons. It made Blaine smile and kept him in high spirits for the whole day, because he thought that maybe, just maybe, that would be him and his boyfriend one day.

And now as he thought about that, he was chuckling to himself. In the past, the presence of his father made him feel even ashamed about thinking about boys this way, but now at Dalton, he was _free_. And it made him kind of warm and happy inside knowing that hey, maybe Nick and Jeff could have a shot together. They were both his close friends, and seeing them together, as a romantic couple, would make him happy too.

Though he hadn't quite found the one for him yet, and all his objects of attraction were all either a) taken or b) straight. He supposed he should include c) Sebastian, but there was something in Blaine that told him that him and Sebastian wouldn't fit. But there was no harm in at least trying and giving the flirtatious freshman a chance right? Right?

Sighing, Blaine got up and headed towards the bathroom. He was going to enjoy whatever was left of the day, and not worry too much about things. Things would all work out. That he was sure of.

* * *

><p>Blaine just <em>knew<em> something was _off_ when he woke up the next morning.

Jeff usually liked to keep his side of the room neat, and even Blaine admitted that Jeff was much neater than he was. It was strange, considering the blond was a hyperactive canon amongst their group of friends, and his handwriting was incredibly messy, but Jeff always made sure the floor was clean. So when Blaine spotted Jeff's tie lying idly on the floor, knot still intact as an obvious sign that Jeff must have just pulled it off in haste, he frowned.

Another thing he noticed was that Jeff wasn't in his bed at all. That was stranger, because Jeff was never a morning person, and hated to wake up early for anything. Blaine frowned even more, as he tried to recall everything that had happened before he had completely passed out from exhaustion the night before. After his phone call, he had stayed up reading_ Romeo and Juliet _for literature class, before succumbing to sleep. Jeff was nowhere to be found. Blaine just assumed that all things had gone well with Jeff's plan to ask Nick to homecoming, and that Jeff was probably celebrating or was spending some _quality time_ with the boy of his affections. So Blaine had fallen asleep, without staying up for his roommate. Jeff had obviously stayed out later than Blaine, and Jeff never ever woke up before Blaine. So seeing Jeff's bed empty (and messed up!) made him think that maybe things hadn't gone as planned after all.

Blaine got dressed quickly and made his way to the dining hall for breakfast. He stifled a yawn as he pushed open the doors, eyes squinting into the mass of boys to try and find his blond friend-who was stabbing at his salad mercilessly, a look of despair in his eyes. And he was actually sitting on the opposite side of the room from the rest of their usual group of friends, the Blackbirds. That was Blaine's 3rd strange realization of the morning.

Blaine raised an eyebrow, making his way over to Jeff, sliding in the empty seat opposite of him. "What's up? Why aren't you with the rest of the guys?"

Jeff mumbled something in reply, continuing to spear through the green on his plate with his bright pink plastic fork. His eyes were still downcast, gazing intently at the vegetables, apparently finding them very interesting. Blaine made futile attempts to find eye contact with his roommate. He then cast a glance to Jeff's breakfast, noting that it was obvious Jeff hadn't even taken a bite out of it.

Now, if Nick had been there right next to Jeff, he would have whined and persuaded Jeff to actually eat, casting a look so worrisome it actually could be presented as the definition of the look the "kicked puppy".

Blaine cast a concerned look, and opened his mouth, about to say something, until he was interrupted by the sight of Nick making a beeline towards them. Nick had a tray of food in front of him, and had just left the queue, making his way to the group's usual spot. That is, until he spotted the pair of roommates sitting away from the rest. Curious, he had made an abrupt turn to find out what happened instead. Besides, breakfast wouldn't be as fun if Jeff and Blaine weren't around.

"Hey guys, what's up? Why aren't you with the rest?" he asked, balancing his tray on one hand while placing his other hand on Jeff's shoulder. The blond froze, his fork cutting through the greens, and his eyes flashed up to meet Blaine's gaze. For a moment, his gaze was pleading, as if to ask Blaine to just _find him a distraction, and get Nick off his case_, but then it was like the blond just remembered Nick was there, and he resumed his poker face and continued to poke at his vegetables.

"Uh… not feeling up to it… am lazy… not enough space…" Jeff mumbled, trying weakly to find excuses, without seeming suspicious. But Blaine could tell Jeff's resolve was weakening, and he would soon be heeding everything Nick told him. He bit the inside of his cheek. How Jeff was acting towards Nick was kinda cute.

Nick looked over to their usual table, then back at Jeff. Why wasn't Jeff feeling up to it? Did someone offend him again? Nick felt almost angry at the idea of someone provoking Jeff again. Jeff was a morning person, this he knew, so how could he ever feel lazy enough to not want to make the effort to walk a few more steps to the table? And the table was barely even half filled. There were definitely enough seats! Nick just couldn't understand what was going on at that moment. "Well, okay, I'll just join you guys the-"

"Hello, Nick," a tired sounding, almost sleazy, gruff voice came from behind them. Jeff stiffened visibly, causing Blaine to raise an eyebrow, but it went unnoticed to the other two freshmen. Sebastian smiled at Blaine, a mischievous look in his eye as he made a show of putting his arm over Nick's shoulder, the other hand occupied by a cup of coffee in his hands, spiked with alcohol, no doubt. He'd been in Dalton for a while now but he had yet to kick the habit. "Oh, and hello, Blaine. Hello, Jeff."

Blaine frowned in confusion. Why was Sebastian acting so weirdly? Just a few days ago, he had hit on Blaine blatantly and repeatedly until Blaine managed to escape his grasp by approaching a teacher and pretending to have something to ask. He looked over at Jeff, who had raised his head by then, yet still pointedly not looking at Sebastian or Nick, instead his intense gaze settled to somewhere next to Sebastian's other shoulder, glaring daggers at the empty space.

Sebastian made a move to pull Nick away, but Nick somehow managed to snake his way out of Sebastian's grasp, his hand reaching for Jeff's wrist and grabbing onto it. "Come on, it won't be the same without you," he said, tugging Jeff's hand lightly, ignoring the sudden loud beating of his heart. He turned to look at Blaine, smiling. "You too, Blaine. Having two empty seats at our usual table would be so weird."

Blaine smiled back, turning to look at Jeff, and as he expected, Jeff was like putty in Nick's hands. The blond nodded, biting his lip as he stood up. He pulled his breakfast tray up from the table, eyes wandering every now and then to the hand that was still on his wrist. The way their hands were positioned were as if they were actually holding hands…

The blond sighed inwardly when the brunette removed his hand. As the four of them walked to the regular table, he could see Blaine watching him from the corner of his eye, and he gave him a tight smile to reassure him.

Nick slid into his seat, grinning as he immediately got into conversation with the rest who were at the table already. Jeff trailed behind, making his way over to the empty spot next to Nick, until Sebastian somehow managed to sneak his way past Jeff and claim the seat first. And now he had his arm over Nick _again_. Great. He stopped in his tracks, standing awkwardly behind the once-empty chair, gripping onto his tray so tightly his knuckles were slowly turning white. He failed to catch the triumphant smirk on Sebastian's face, but still wanted to hurl the rest of his salad at the other freshman. As soon as those thoughts formed in his head, his usual inner voice of reason kicked in. _Violence is not the answer. What the hell were you thinking, Jeff?_ He made a non-committing noise, shaking his head more at himself than anything.

He had no choice but to make one long detour to the next empty seat, which was right at the end of the table, far away from Nick. _Well, at least he had Blaine,_ he thought, smiling at his roommate who was seated opposite of him again. He took a tentative bite from his salad, looking over at Nick. Apparently he still did not realize that Jeff was missing from his usual seat by his side, and now it was like he was being replaced by Sebastian. Excellent.

This was going to be a long breakfast.

* * *

><p>"Geez, Jeff, stop sulking. You'll get worry lines."<p>

Jeff relaxed his set jaw, looking up at Trent with a tired look. Of course it was Trent who said such a thing. It was barely 9pm, but he already felt so tired. The homecoming dance was in full swing, and most of the students were on the dance floor, couples and couples wrapped up in each other's arms, groups of friends fooling around or having mini dance battles, and singles who were just trying their best to be a part of the fray. Some had chosen to stay at the side while the rest were dancing wildly to the latest pop song. Jeff and Trent belonged to the first group. Trent just failed to see the appeal of sweaty bodies pressed against each other. He wrinkled his nose in disgust as he looked on at the throngs of students moving closer and closer to one another, emphasizing his point. Thank you kindly, but Trent Nixon was unwilling to be a part of that messy experience.

Jeff on the other hand… was just trying to avoid going anywhere near Nick and Sebastian that night.

"It's disgusting, ugh! Why does Sebastian keep feeling up Nick? Geez, someone should stop him," he complained as he took a sip of punch. He made a face at the bitter taste. So the punch was spiked. Gross. It was probably going to be Sebastian's favorite refreshment of the evening. The guy had Courvoisier in his coffee every day. Jeff was pretty sure it wasn't healthy, but Sebastian always brushed off the rest of the Blackbird's concerns.

The song finally ended after what seemed like 4 incredibly torturous minutes for Jeff. The Blackbirds slowly convened around Trent and Jeff, all with bright smiles on their faces, slightly breathless from the dancing before. Connor sighed loudly in relief upon sight of the punch bowl, and everyone started to make their way towards it, trying to grab onto a cup to fill with the punch. The spiked punch, Jeff realized, his eyes widening as he got up from his seat and tried to tell the rest. "Guys, the punch is spik-"

"Oh, live a little, Jeffy!" Connor said, exhaling loudly after taking a sip of the drink. He reached his hand over to clap Jeff's shoulder in reassurance. Jeff laughed nervously and nodded, although there was still this nagging feeling at the back of his head that things might go out of hand.

* * *

><p>Trent was just heading towards the bathroom to fix up his hair, when he spotted a familiar figure walking down the hallways in the opposite direction, dragging a suitcase behind him.<p>

"Andrew?" he called out tentatively, the corners of his mouth lifting up as the other boy turned around and smiled at him, giving him a wave. Trent gave a shout of relief and made his way towards Andrew, greeting him with a warm and friendly hug. It was nice to see Andrew up and walking around again. The last time he had seen Andrew was when he was still in the hospital, recovering from the fainting spell.

"Let me help you with that," he said, helping Andrew with the suitcase, despite the other's protest. Normally Trent hated breaking a sweat, but his friend had just come back from the hospital, and he was just really thankful Andrew was fine.

"Where's everyone else?" Andrew asked as they walked up the stairs towards the dormitories.

"Homecoming, remember? You can still join in the party if you want to! Some of the things I've seen have not been particularly pleasing to the eyes though," he said, laughing. Some things were just meant to be done in private and not in front of the eyes of the rest of one's schoolmates. "It's pretty funny, though. Our famous Mr Walken keeps getting asked to dance by girls, but he's sticking closely to Thomas."

Andrew gave him an amused grin, raising an eyebrow. "Are you implying that- Exactly how much did I miss while I was gone?" he asked. He unlocked the door to the single room and held the door open for Trent.

"Nah, I was just kidding with you. But if Thomas and Connor got together? That would be cute. I love playing matchmaker to everyone."

"I can tell that!" Andrew said, sighing as he cleared up the scattered papers on his bedroom floor that he had sworn, the morning two weeks before, that he would clear when he returned to the room after the Blackbirds meeting. Then this whole thing happened with him being in the hospital. His laundry was probably untouched and forgotten too, and this was proven true when he saw Trent take a huge deliberate step backwards into the hallways, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Do you plan on crashing he homecoming party then?" the sassy warbler asked, staying in the hallways as he talked to Andrew, who simply shook his head.

"I'm thinking about getting some rest. I have to sort out all of this junk," he said, waving his hand wildly at the mess that was his room, sighing heavily. While it was great to finally be able to return to his friends and life back in Dalton, he just couldn't live with the mess a second longer.

"I'll join you. Homecoming is not my thing anyway. I go for the hair and the outfits."

Andrew laughed again, his eyes shining brightly. "Sure, if you want to. I don't mind the help. And you have to catch me up with everything that I missed while I was away!"

Trent smiled fondly. He was glad that his friend was back in high spirits. Andrew now seemed to have this energy that was quite contagious. The old Andrew was quiet, shy and reserved, but this Andrew was more open and trusting now. And that was a good thing. He nodded and held his breath, heading straight for the laundry basket. Clearing the big messes first was a good plan.

* * *

><p>Sebastian wasn't holding up very well, and that was the honest truth.<p>

He gulped down his 10th cup of spiked punch, finally feeling the alcohol kick in, the rush in his veins and nerves. He was left alone at the punch table for some reason. Nick had gone off with Jeff somewhere… but that didn't matter. He brushed it off, scooping more punch into his now empty plastic cup.

His eyes scanned over the dance floor, smirking gratefully back as a Crawford girl caught his eye and winked at him. Then his gaze fell on Blaine, who was dancing dorkily with Thomas and… _Connor_. His eyes narrowed, a burning feeling building inside his heart. His head started to hurt, and he fumbled in his pockets for his pills- _oh, right_. Clenching his jaw, he made his way to the trio, the plastic cup, still filled with punch, carelessly tossed into a nearby trash bag.

Basically, a heavily intoxicated Sebastian, plus something that particularly irked him, equalled to trouble.

"Blaine," he greeted, merely glancing at the other two as he started to grind his body against the aforementioned freshman. Thomas and Connor stared confusedly at his coldness, but brushed it off; they both knew Sebastian had a crush on Blaine. In fact, when they had seen Sebastian entering the party with Nick by his side, they had been incredibly confused.

It took Thomas a lot of courage to even dare to show up at this party. He knew the danger of being felt up and his memories being triggered as such, but Connor promised he would protect him, and he was grateful for that, since he really wanted to have some fun with his friends. And he had thought that maybe facing the problems head on, like how Mr Davies had talked about exposure therapy the week before, would help him "recover" faster.

Blaine was taken aback at first by Sebastian's forwardness, so he continued dancing warily. But after a while, he started becoming scared by Sebastian's sudden aggressiveness, pushing the confident boy away gently. "Er, Sebastian…"

"What?" Sebastian snapped, glaring at Blaine, who blinked in shock at the sudden change in Sebastian's mood. What was going on? He backed away slowly, but Sebastian grabbed onto his wrist, tugging Blaine back close to him, wrapping an arm around Blaine's waist.

"Sebastian, stop," he said, a little louder this time, his voice shaky. His heart drummed loudly in his chest, but not because of their intimacy, but because he was starting to get quite terrified. Thomas and Connor finally noticed how uncomfortable Blaine was getting, and made their way closer to the two of them, their smiles slowly falling off their faces as they realized something was up with Sebastian.

"Sebastian? Blaine said no," Connor tried, tugging Sebastian back, trying to figure out why Sebastian was purposely stepping into Blaine's personal boundaries. Sebastian could be sleazy, yes, but he wasn't this bad. Plus, Blaine was, first and foremost, his friend. Connor knew Sebastian wouldn't do this to his own friends. Because underneath that hard shell and the walls Sebastian put up around himself, he knew Sebastian to be a compassionate and caring friend.

"Fuck off. Stop telling me what to do, Walken."

Wait what? Connor blinked repeatedly, loosening his grip on Sebastian. What was up with Sebastian? What had he done that struck a nerve? Recovering quickly, he tightened his grip on Sebastian, roughly pulling him back. "No. Stop now."

Sebastian fell backwards, drunk and taken by surprise, landing on the floor with a thud. Thomas gasped, and so did the people around them, who were realizing that the two were starting some sort of fight. Sebastian's mouth formed an 'o' in surprise, getting up quickly and brushing his pants. "Really, Walken? Really? You really want to play with _me_, pretty boy?" He strode forwards and shoved Connor, hard, causing the boy to stumble backwards as well.

Connor saw red and shoved Sebastian back, not caring about what he was doing at all. He felt that familiar burning in his heart, his mind racing and blocking out everything except his sudden need to hurt someone or break something. Thomas panicked. He knew that his roommate hadn't taken his mood stabilizers that day. Connor had been trying to work on a pill "diet" and cut his reliance on his pills. He never mentioned exactly why, but Connor had told him it was bad to keep having to turn to things like this. Connor had said he wanted to "heal" on his own.

He didn't know Sebastian was off his meds that day either. In fact, he had been off his meds for a few days now. "You son of a b_- You_ were the one who told Mr Davies to cut my meds, weren't you? No one else knew- They wouldn't have- I haven't told- _Fuck_," he hissed into Connor's ear as he pulled Connor up by the collar, strangling him a little, before throwing him down on the floor.

Connor stared at him in shock, snapping out of his anger for a moment, before snapping back into it again. "It's for your own good, idiot. Do you think I like seeing you slip into over reliance? Fuck, you're taking too many pills at one go! What if you overdose one day? You should be thanking me," he retorted, getting up from the floor, his tone calm, but his eyes projecting anger.

"You can't control me."

Connor scoffed at that, straightening himself, ignoring the blatant stares the other people were giving them. His eyes flashed dangerously when he caught a girl, from the corner of his eye, whipping out her phone to snap a picture of him. He turned his head to glare at her, making a lunge for the phone and quickly pressing delete, then pushing the phone back into her hands. "Don't you even dare." He was pulled away from the stunned girl by Blaine, who instead received a blow to the chin in response.

"Shit, Blaine, I'm sorry," he said, the softer side of him reaching out. Sebastian seemed to have recovered from his sudden daze and marched forward towards Connor, delivering a blow to Connor's eyes with a tightly balled fist. Everyone in Sebastian's life had tried to control him; his mother, bringing him here and there, pulling him out of schools and placing him in new ones as they followed her latest boyfriend to wherever he was. She was the one who dangled his first bottle of alcohol in front of him, saying that it would solve all his problems. Most recently, his father had come back into his life and was trying to gain control over his lifestyle.

There was just something in Connor's scoff that snapped the wrong vein in Sebastian. A matchstick struck to the most volatile stick of dynamite.

_Chaos._

Thomas yelled something, calling over the rest of the Blackbirds to help resolve the fight, trying his best to pull the two freshmen away from each other as they began to fight, punch and kicking. Wes and David appeared first, pulling Sebastian away, but he was too strong, easily pulling away from their grip to land another blow to Connor's stomach.. Thad, the only student councilor amongst the three, had to follow his responsibilities and had gone to alert a teacher for help and maybe the school nurse as well. The rest of the Blackbirds present convened around and tried to help, but all to no avail, some even receiving hits from the two out of control boys.

By the time the teachers arrived, Connor was sporting a rather well forming bruise over his left eye and Sebastian had a split lip. The other bruises were on their chests and stomachs and backs. Sebastian winced as they pulled him away, and Connor could barely walk. The celebrity raised child turned his head to the side as he was being dragged away, and saw most of the people at the party who had noticed the fight, whip out their phones and began snapping pictures. Well shit. Soon news of him getting into a fight would be all over twitter, facebook, tumblr, paparazzi sites… he groaned. This was not going to sit well with his parents.

He then looked over at Thomas, who was standing by the side with the rest of the Blackbirds, all watching them leave, and saw his eyes puffy, and his cheek… slapped. Connor's heart stopped for a moment, and he gasped. He had done that. He was the one that Thomas was trying so desperately to stop attacking Sebastian. He looked down at his hands, and felt so guilty. He never meant to- He didn't want to-

But he did. He hurt the people around him. Suddenly he felt incredibly dizzy and he wanted to puke. These people had been trying to be his friends for the past few weeks, and now he had lashed out his anger on them. They were going to leave, just like everyone else, once they got tired of his novelty. But he didn't want to lose them. He lifted his head up once again, and managed to mouth a quick "sorry" in their direction, before the doors of the school hall closed in front of him.

* * *

><p>After waiting in the administration room for what felt like hours but was actually only 30 minutes, Sebastian looked up as the door to the principal's office opened, revealing Connor limping his way out. The boy seemed to freeze for a moment, his gaze flickering nervously over at Sebastian seated at the couch nearby, before he continued to walk out of the administration room. Sebastian barely caught Connor's gaze, but he turned his eyes away, refusing to look the other boy in the eye. The fire had died down a little, and he was feeling a little guilty about hurting Connor to this extent, but he didn't know how to say sorry. He never did. He went through a cycle of get angry, fight it out, suffer in silent guilt and then rinse and repeat.<p>

Sebastian pulled himself up on his feet and casually walked into the Principal's office, not bothering to knock. He sat down on a chair, the Principal looking down at some papers as he mumbled, "We're waiting for someone. For the time being, just sit and wait, son."

The boy made an indignant noise, impatiently drumming his fingers on his knee, looking up at the clock every now and then. It was nearing midnight already and this was incredibly ridiculous. By now everyone would have been gone from the hall, back into their rooms and asleep… or not quite. But here he was, stuck in the principal's office, when the only thing he wanted to do was run away from confrontation. And maybe that was why he had such a problem coping with his anger. His usual form of escape, however, was through more alcohol in his system.

He looked up as the door to the office clicked open behind him, rolling his eyes and sighing loudly as he turned around. "About time-"

He paused, his throat suddenly feeling tight.

"Dad? What are you doing here?"

* * *

><p>"<em>I'm sorry"<em>

Nick groaned in frustration as he ran down the hallways that seemed to stretch on forever. He mentally cursed the dormitories for being so far away from the school hall. He had bolted out of the hall as soon as he got the message, and was oblivious to the inferno that was brewing in the party he had just left. His heart was racing, and not just because of his running, but because of the fear that struck his heart. His mind raced a million possible reasons why Jeff would have sent him that text, but he knew, _he just knew_, that it meant one thing; Jeff was… purging again.

He cursed under his breath as he turned the last corner and sprinted down the hallway he knew would lead to Jeff's room, the second last on the left, with the goofy picture of Jeff, Blaine and a photo bombing Nick that hung on the doorknob.

Nick turned the knob and pulled open the door quickly, letting it swing shut behind him as he rushed for the toilet, phone held tightly in his hands. The toilet door was shut, and he could hear small whimpering noises coming for inside. His breathing hitched, his heart pounding even faster as he turned to his side and used his force to knock the door open. "Jeff?" he called out quietly, inhaling sharply when he saw the blond boy leaning against the toilet bowl, his breathing coming out in shallow puffs, wracked sobs and tear tracks down his cheeks.

"Oh god, Jeff…" he kneeled down next to Jeff and hugged the other boy to his chest, despite the other boy's resistance. He ran his fingers through the blond locks comfortingly, holding the boy close. He didn't know what to do or how he could make Jeff feel better. He didn't even know what triggered Jeff to purge again, or if it was like the last time. But his text had suggested the former.

There was a tense silence for a while as Nick continued to massage Jeff's scalp gently, his other hand rubbing soothing circles on Jeff's back. Nick looked down and frowned when he heard Jeff mumble something into his chest.

"What's wrong?" he asked, mentally kicking himself as the words came out of his mouth. Of course there was something wrong. If there was nothing wrong, Jeff would have still been at the party, and they wouldn't be here. They would have been having fun with the rest.

"I'm ruining your suit," Jeff blurted after some hesitation.

Nick let out a chuckle, shaking his head. That was the least of his concerns. "No, I meant what happened, Jeff. You need to tell me why. And I'm not going to leave until you tell me."

"Then don't leave me. Stay," Jeff said in a small, tired voice, his arms reaching out to wrap around Nick's waist. He felt a little guilty for making use of his situation to keep Nick by his side, but he really did need the comfort. He needed something solid, something to keep him in balance.

Jeff felt Nick shift under him, pulling him up slowly. Jeff's knees wobbled weakly, barely managing to stand up on his own. He was still in a dazed state, letting Nick wash his face and brush his teeth while he stood limply like a zombie, lifeless, his eyes empty and his face filled with despair. He leaned against Nick helplessly as Nick half-dragged and half-carried him to his bed. He almost whimpered in protest when Nick left his side to search for a shirt that Jeff could change into.

Nick knew Blaine would be back soon, and Blaine could help take care of Jeff, but Nick wanted to know what had happened. "Jeff, tell me why. Please?" he pressed, a pleading look in his eyes. He wanted to do all he could to wipe the urges away from Jeff's mind. To erase whatever words or thoughts that triggered the purging. He sat down on the bed next to Jeff, his hand finding the blonde's and covering it, squeezing it affectionately.

Jeff let out a shaky breath, clearing his dry throat and trying to find the words to explain. "I just feel so… inadequate, Nick. I'm not good enough for anyone."

"Nonsense. You're one of the most beautiful people I've ever met, and your heart is golden. You're kind, smart, funny, and you're a constant ball of energy. Everyone loves you."

"Then why wasn't I good enough for you?"

Nick stared back at Jeff in surprise. "What?"

Jeff tried to push himself up, so that he could look Nick in the eyes. This was it. He could hear his heart beating rapidly against his ribcage, and felt a blush creeping up his neck. "I like you, Nick, and when I saw you with Sebastian, I-" his voice trailed off, not wanting to continue. He squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for Nick's reaction. It never came, so he opened his eyes, only to see Nick gaping back at him, speechless. "Nick, say something?" he asked quietly, trying his best to keep calm. He was starting to doubt himself now. He was so sure Nick was going to run away from him now. He really picked an awful time to confess his feelings, didn't he-

"Jeff, I didn't know... You should have said something. Oh god, I did this to you, didn't I? It's all my fault. Oh god, I'm so sorry," the brunette replied, clearly flustered. He leaned forward to press a kiss on Jeff's forehead, his nose nuzzling into the blond hair. "You _are _adequate for me, Jeff. You're more than that. But I think we should… we should take this slow. My last relationship landed me in an awful place with my father, and I can't drag you into that." He bit his lip as he pulled back to look Jeff in the eyes. "And no, don't try to say you don't care. We're… we're both messed up, for the lack of a better word, and we should take this slow, alright? Whatever will be will be."

Jeff stayed quiet for a while, just staring into the chocolate brown eyes, as he contemplated Nick's words. It could have been worse; a lot worse. But Nick was so kind and so patient with him, and those were the traits Nick had that made Jeff crush on him in the first place. "So, do you like me back, or…?" he asked, laughing to cover up how nervous he was.

"I… I don't know." Jeff's heart dropped a little, but he maintained a smile on his face. "I just never thought of us being together. I mean, I thought you didn't like guys in _that way_, and I think I was too carried away in taking care of you to realize if I actually had feelings for you. But you know what? I'm willing to give us a try. Just take it slow, okay?"

Jeff nodded, his spirits lifted somewhat though he was now even more confused than before. They would take it slow, whatever 'it' was, and that was good enough for him. He wrapped his arms around Nick, pulling him in for a hug, just basking in the moment and inhaling Nick's cologne, letting one last tear of relief roll down his cheek.

* * *

><p>Sebastian tried to zone out as much of the conversation as he could, distracting himself by critiquing the interior design of the Principal's office (really, Sebastian, could you get any more gay?) and making a mental note to diss on the Principal's choice in carpeting the next time he got sent to the office. He barely registered it when his father clapped his shoulder, a sign that they could leave already. Throwing one last smirk at the principal, he walked out of the office, not bothering to hold the door for his father or wait, and began to make his way to the nurse's office. He winced as he rubbed his jaw absentmindedly. He really needed to get it checked up.<p>

"Wait! Sebastian!"

Sebastian nearly missed his step, pausing and taking in a deep breath before turning to look at his father, a fake smile plastered on his face. "Yes?"

"Are you.. are you okay?"

Sebastian laughed at his father's awkwardness, and at the obvious answer the question prompted. "Doing smashingly well actually, thanks," he said, cocking his head to the side with a snide grin on his face, then turning to continue his walk to the nurse's office.

"Sebastian, stop shutting me out! I'm trying my best to make an effort and to help you cope with your problems, but you keep pushing me away. What do you want me to do? If you want your meds back, I'll go talk to your doctor and he'll put you back on medication. Or we could switch doctors if you'd like. Or send you to a proper counselor; the best in the state," his father pleaded, his hand grabbing onto the sleeve of Sebastian's suit, pulling him back.

"You really want to know what I want from you?" he asked quietly, turning to glance one last time at his father.

His father nodded eagerly, eyes lighting up with hope that maybe Sebastian was finally going to open up to him. Finally he could be a proper father-

"I want you to _leave me alone_. I can handle this on my own."

* * *

><p><strong>THE NEXT DAY<strong>

He didn't know why his feet had somehow brought him here after breakfast, but it made sense to him one he saw the piano sitting by the side of the choir room.

His hands ghosted over the keys, contemplating them for a while, casting a wary glance at the door. He would never admit this to anyone, but singing was his true passion. It was the only time he felt vaguely calm and at peace. In his head and heart, there was this constant battle of emotions, mostly anger, and the fire never really quite stopped burning. He had been let down and disappointed too many times to let it go. And every time something bad happened, it was simply adding more fuel to the raging fire.

But singing, he realized, helped him to express his anger in a different way. There was something about keeping in tune, about expressing one's emotions through lyrics and the highs and lows of a tune that made him feel comforted.

He found himself settling down on the piano chair, his fingers testing out some of the keys. He had a go-to song; New Soul by Yael Naim. There was just something about the cheerful yet melancholic mix of the tune and lyrics that made him intrigued. Taking a deep breath, he began to play.

_I'm a new soul_

_I came to this strange world_

_Hoping I could learn a bit about how to give and take. _

_But since I came here_

_Felt the joy and the fear_

_Finding myself making every possible mistake _

He laughed bitterly at the last sentence, because at that moment it was so true. He continued to pound on the piano keys, shaking his head as he almost missed one. He didn't notice that someone else had walked into the choir room and was watching him sing.

_La-la-la-la-la-la-la-la... _

_I'm a young soul in this very strange world_

_Hoping I could learn a bit 'bout what is true and fake. _

_But why all this hate?_

_Try to communicate_

_Finding trust and love is not always easy to make. _

He thought about his father (his biological one) and how he found it so hard to accept that he was trying to come back into Sebastian's life again. He knew why he still held a grudge against his father. His father had thrown family aside in favor of his career. No one could know that Senator Smythe had caused a teenage girl to be pregnant, and that Sebastian was a result of that. For the sake of his reputation, he had chosen to run away from his responsibilities. Sebastian found it hard to forgive him for that.

But then again, even though he tried his hardest to hate the man, there was always this thing tugging at his heart and telling him that he _couldn't possibly_ hate his own father. This man was the one who brought him life. This man was the one who shared the same DNA as he did.

_La-la-la-la-la-la-la-la... _

_This is a happy end_

_Cause' you don't understand_

_Everything you have done_

_Why's everything so wrong _

_This is a happy end_

_Come and give me your hand_

_I'll take your far away. _

_I'm a new soul_

_I came to this strange world_

_Hoping I could learn a bit about how to give and take_

_But since I came here_

_Felt the joy and the fear_

_Finding myself making every possible mistake _

_La-la-la-la-la-la-la-la... _

_La-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la..._

He let out a loud sigh as the song ended, his hand resting on the keys of the piano, shutting his eyes, as if shutting away the rest of the world. He opened his eyes in surprise when he heard a clapping noise coming from the door, looking up to see Connor standing there, a black bruise around his eye. Sebastian felt guilt flood into him, but he kept his poker face on.

"How long have you been standing there?"

Connor shrugged, slowly walking over to the piano, seating himself down next to Sebastian, his back leaning against the keys. "Hmm, not long. But long enough."

Sebastian chuckled, and nodded. There was some silence for a while, before he spoke up, taking a deep breath. "I'm really sorry about yesterday. I shouldn't have lashed out at you," he said, staring down at his lap. Sebastian wasn't accustomed to saying things like this. Sentimental words weren't his strong suit, and they made him nervous. And they were the two cockiest guys in the entire level, maybe even the entire school, so it was a little strange. But at that moment, with just the two of them, two _friends_, it seemed quite okay. It was quite comforting actually. "You were… only looking out for me, being my friend. You're an awfully good one, by the way." Non-sexual compliments rarely left Sebastian's mouth either, but he just had to tell Connor how sorry he was. Connor was the person who knew him the best, and he didn't want to lose this friendship so quickly. "I… I now understand why you did it. You were, in a way, protecting me from myself."

Connor sat there, listening intently to Sebastian, and knowing how new this was for him. He felt the same. He was so used to fake smiles and backstabbing in the entertainment industry. He barely knew the true definition of a friend. But since Sebastian considered him a friend, and Connor apparently actually cared for Sebastian in a way, yeah, he considered Sebastian a friend as well. "But hey, I kinda screwed it up," Connor said, rubbing the back of his neck. "So we're even," he said, smirking and reaching out his hand to Sebastian.

Sebastian returned the smirk and shook his hand gratefully. "I'm gonna need help from you you know."

Connor sighed melodramatically and rolled his eyes playfully. "_Fine_, I'll help you control your anger without having to rely on your stupid medicine. Now you seriously owe me," he said in mock seriousness.

"Deal."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: As you may have noticed, updates are coming in slower... life is taking a toll on my time, and this fic in particular is taking a huge toll on my emotions. ****I'm also working on another Niff fic ( yeah, I know, I'm terrible), and other stuff, so I'm quite busy. I haven't given up on this fic. I just need some… time. Hope you guys will continue to stick with me!**

**For anything, you can always find me at my tumblr~ uptownwarblerette. :D**

**R&R please! Reviews are much appreciated and they keep me going. **


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